


Allergic to Fire

by Nerenight



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, And Much More - Freeform, Countries Using Human Names, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Multiple Relationships, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Vampires, Witches, embarrassing romance, even I don't know, monster au, when will they kiss?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2018-11-21 07:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 54,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11352813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerenight/pseuds/Nerenight
Summary: Stressed English witch moves with his half-brother, Peter, to a different country, can't afford a thing because rent is too high, works part time in a flower shop, and attends an Academy no one in the town really knows about. Probably because it's full of supernatural beings who are trying desperately not to attract the attention of humans... Well, maybe not that desperately. Slow-burn USUK





	1. The Foggy Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for clicking on me! I honestly just came up with the title seconds ago and holy crap I just had the greatest idea for future chapters. ANYWAY! I've been wanting to write this fan fiction since I was fourteen years old (in 2011). Let's just say I picked up Rosario+Vampire and couldn't stop thinking about USUK.  
> I know the fandom is not as big as it used to be - but let's all be real here: No one can actually leave this fandom. If you see that cute fan art on Tumblr, you know you're going to reblog it. You haven't read any new chapters from Hima but you will reblog that art. I know I still do.  
> I hope you stick it out through the long journey I have planned for our favorite American and Brit. I've done a lot of research from different myths and lore but also threw in my own takes on the beings you'll meet in each chapter. And of course with monsters, there is some blood and typical violence, but nothing grotesque - I'm not that great at describing gore anyway, so don't worry about that!  
> You may see the way I interpret some characters and think "Uhh no" but don't quit there! Everyone has a complex personality and are viewed different depending on what character is describing them! I love everyone in Hetalia, so have no fear.  
> Enjoy the work!

It was as if this town produced fog made especially for early Monday mornings. It had only been a few weeks since Peter and I fully moved into the flat, or, apartment as I would have to get used to calling them, and every Monday began with little clouds floating down the streets like spirits meandering to their little day jobs before humanity rose from their beds. It would be gone by eight o’clock, and very rarely would happen again for the rest of the week. I watched it from the small balcony that overlooked the street whenever I woke up early enough, and brewed a fresh cuppa to pass the time.  


The apartment space was small, even with small loans from the school I would be attending and an allowance made once in a blue moon from my coven, the rent was obnoxious. So within a week of living in this new town, I found a quaint, little flower shop whose aging owner seemed so delighted to have help taking care of everything. I had to hold my breath at the amount of wilting petals I saw in every pot on the shelves and gently pulled my wand out charm the little things back to life. She graciously understood my fluid schedule as I would start school, as well as caring for my younger brother. Honestly if she let me work five hours a week, I would still take it.  


Walking back inside the room, I looked over to the bed that I had floated above the rest of the room to that there could be enough space to fit a small desk and sofa. There was a ladder resting by the head of it, not nailed or anything, just… resting, that I used to get up and down, or to trap Peter up there when we argue.  


Peter is not a witch like the rest of my family back in England. Nor is he human. My mother blames herself, but at some point in his infancy, the actual Peter was taken by the fairies, and well, they left a changeling behind. His ears are a bit more pointed and arched, and his skin color has a bluer undertone rather than pink or yellow like most people. It was nothing a little magic couldn’t hide, but the temperament and lack of common human emotions was untouchable. The coven we belong to suspended him for indecent use of magic, thus, he was sent with me away. Being fifteen years older, becoming solo older brother is a bit tedious; especially with such a large family who could have taken care of him.  


The small lump in the bed turned in his sleep. I wandered over to the desk and set my tea down on the coaster. The address to the school was scribbled down on a scrap piece of paper next to my ID to get a discount for the bus that dropped off nearby. It was not a normal school, nor a university, technically. Every student was a different race - as in chimera, or supernatural beings - some witches did call them monsters, but that term has been exhausted decades ago. It’s a stretch being a witch, considering we are human in retrospect, but the school’s board had insisted that there were others as well, and the opportunity opened itself for me. It would suffice for making up educational classes I’ve missed in my life, as well as accume new ones - and as my brother wrote me, would “expand my social life into something more than a hermit.” His letter was taped on the mirror in front me. I still hadn’t changed into actual clothes, nor brushed my hair. I needed to make breakfast for Peter and pack him a lunch.  


Shuffling a few feet over to the kitchen, I scrambled together the last few eggs I had in the fridge and tossed some ham into the pan. It may have burned. It looked like it did; I wasn’t the best cook - but Peter eats it. Most of the time. I grabbed my wand and pointed it at the bed, and with a simple “ekawa,” I heard the familiar sound of Peter groaning his unhappiness to the world.  


“Come on, I made breakfast,” I said, putting the plate on the counter for him. “I need you to get ready to go to Abby’s house, all right? She’s going to play with you while I’m at school.”  


Most often I didn’t get a reply. Peter would drudge down the ladder and grab the plate and sit on the couch to watch videos on my laptop. The tips of his ears just poked out of the bed-head he had going on. I took the time to throw on my cleanest trousers and a button-down that perhaps could have been ironed a bit more, but the steam of the shower did well enough of a job. As I cuffed the sleeves, I picked out Peter’s clothes for him and left them on the pillow of the sofa. Sometimes he would put them on - other times he’d wait for me. When he was dressed, I combed his hair and brought him his shoes. He worked on the laces while I put away my laptop and slid it into my bag, along with a few notebooks. I slid my pencil behind my ear and tossed my reading glasses into a pocket.  


“You ready Peter?” I asked, grabbing his small lunchbox and fished through the cabinet to find a banana and some peanut butter. I made a mental note to go grocery shopping when I had the chance.  


Peter had knotted the laces, but the shoes were on, and I told him he did a good job anyway. Placing my wand into the inner pocket of my windbreaker, I opened the door and ushered Peter into the hallway so I could lock it. We shared a hallway with three other apartments. Ours was right across from the stairwell, conveniently, but every day, the man from the apartment next to ours, would be in the hallway, sitting in a metal chair by the window - just staring at us. I would jump in my skin whenever I turned around and made eye-contact. He didn’t move towards us, but he just stared, and stared, and stared.  


“Take my hand,” I told Peter. “Let’s get going.”  


We walked down two flights of stairs and out of the building, the door locking behind us. The sun was rising, and the fog was clearing just as people began to head to work and start their day. Abby, a local witch who I found through the blessings of the internet, lived just a fifteen minute walk away in the close suburb of the town. She had watched Peter on many occasions as I was job searching and she’s such a kind woman. She was a few years older than me, in her upper twenties, and had her own business that she worked in at home. Peter didn’t mind going to her house - she certainly had more time to play with him than I would now.  


Abby was waiting by the door in sweatpants and a t-shirt and I quite envied that. She waved, I waved back as I opened her very American, white picket fence.  


“Hello, Peter, how are you?” she asked, crouching down to greet him. He gave a small shrug and she smiled. “We’re going to have a good time today, I promise. You can help me craft some things.”  


“Thank you again,” I said, letting her take Peter’s hand. “I owe you so much already - if there’s anything I can do.”  


She stood back up and waved her hand. “Nonsense. Witch to witch, I don’t mind at all. He’s another hand to help me with work for a bit, and he’s very good at arts and crafts. Maybe when he’s older I’ll hire him.”  


I handed her the lunchbox.  


“I think he would like that,” I replied. “Really though, with school now, and you watching him more, I need to pay you something. I won’t accept getting away with nothing - childcare is… a lot of work.”  


Abby leaned against her doorframe and looked at the trees above her house. “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll send you a bill at the end of the week, but I insist on giving you a discount. We’ll just exchange a few potions, here and there to make up for it. Savvy?”  


“Deal.”  


I said my goodbyes to Peter as he ran inside her house and shut the fence behind me as I walked back to the town to catch the bus that left on the corner.  


It was a regular city bus; happily it took my money and I sat down in a seat near the middle door. The twenty-five minute ride led around the city until there was nothing outside the windows except forests and meadows on the ten mile stretch between cities. We slowed next to a dirt path which lay next to a small bench and a lamp. Ardeat Academy the bus sign blinked. I slid out the door and stared down the path that ducked over a small hill. The air smelled different here - odd. As if the scent of sulfur was just fading and someone ran around the field spraying air freshener.  


Over the hill, the school sat among small woods and a large lake on the far corner. The entire campus was quite large; paths curled around and about like it were a park. My wand warmed the inside of the windbreaker so much, I’m sure my heart was about to burst from excitement. My feet could not move fast enough down the dirt as it shifted to stone and the grass was short and still green despite the upcoming autumn season. My shoulder throbbed from pulling down on my bag so much. There was a quaint map of the campus in front of the main entrance; I believed I was looking for the admissions office…  


“Excuse me, but are you Arthur Kirkland?”  


Perking up, I looked over my shoulder to see a respectably short man, perhaps my age, but I couldn’t quite tell. He held a clipboard in one hand and a cup in the other - steam rising from the hole in the lid.  


I turned around and nodded. “Ah, yes that’s me.”  


He smiled and gently brushed the short, black fringe from his eyes with a pinkie and looked down at his clipboard. “I was expecting you, Mr. Kirkland; you have incredible timing.” He leaned forward slightly and bowed his head. “My name is Honda Kiku,” he said, coming back up. “I am the student body president here at the academy. The headmaster asked me to show you around as well as give you all your essential papers.”  


“Oh! That’s very kind of you, Honda, thank you,” I replied, bowing slightly back.  


The corner of his mouth tugged a little as he shuffled through some papers on the board. “You may call me Kiku - everyone here does.”  


Kiku handed me my class schedule and began talking about the history of the school - which opened for a specific type of chimera, but became more inclusive after World War II for international students and species. We walked up the staircase to the entrance, opening the heavy door to a grandiose parlor. The amount of protection that went into guarding the campus from regular humans was immense, and swallowed a large portion of everyone’s tuition. Classes ran from the morning long into the night to accommodate the lifestyles of both diurnal and nocturnal students. I was shown the cafes inside the school to get food, and the ridiculous amount of hallways.  


“Something very important to note is that the students and teachers are asked to keep their human image retained while on school grounds. I know it isn’t something you need to worry about much since your species is human-based,” Kiku said hesitantly, trying his best not to sound offensive.  


“So it’s ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ type of policy?” I asked, a bit judgemental.  


He puffed out his cheeks knowingly. “Yes, ah, as bad as it sounds, the headmaster put it into place to protect students from old familial relationships and rivalries; also in case of any human entry into the school. However,” he lowered his voice, “a lot of students protest that rule regardless and show some part of their true forms.”  


He let out the last puff of air he had towards his hair, dull red markings lining his forehead as the strands of dark hair moved up then just as quickly fell back. I grinned, intrigued.  


“If a student shares with you their kind, simply be respectful. Some would rather not have rumors go about,” Kiku finished, walking me to a classroom. “Your schedule is based off of the school’s curriculum as well as considering your talents and future needs.”  


“So magic based,” I stated, looking up from the paper to the classroom. I smiled, “Thank you again for showing me around, Kiku. I appreciate it. Perhaps we can meet up and grab some afternoon tea later today?”  


“I would be happy to, Mr. Kirkland,” he said, bowing.  


“Arthur. Please.”  


“Okay, Arthur then.” He smiled back. “We both have free time around 1:15 today. I’ll come find you.”  


The first class I sat through was Transcendency, which was something far beyond my knowledge of magic. I took vigorous notes while the professor went off on a speech about energy. The amount of students in the class reassured my small fear that I would be one of the few magic users; trying to guess who was a witch and who wasn’t however was frustrating beyond belief. I glanced down at the room number to my next class and wandered down the hallway trying to find it as the plaques didn’t seem to be in any reasonable order. There was quite the crowd of students.  


I just couldn’t bring myself to ask any of them.  


I wouldn’t call myself a shy person - no. My brothers would say I ranted too often back at home, but since I moved, it’s just been Peter and I, and well, it gets a little lonely with no friends. Getting back into the swing of politely communicating with peers takes time.  


A firm push from behind sent me falling forward into another young man who I almost brought down with me.  


“Hey, are you alright, mister?” The accent was a surprise.  


I stood back up, apologizing profusely to the student, who seemed very nonchalant about the whole affair.  


“Oh mio, don’t worry about it!” he said, waving his hands. “Happy to help! You look new - is this your first day?”  


“Is it that obvious?” I asked, tucking my hair behind my ear.  


He mirrored my action and tugged on a strand of the dark auburn hair that fell rather smoothly. It wasn’t the answer I expected, but perhaps I did look a bit nervous meandering hallways.  


“Benvenuto, I’m Feliciano, but my friends call me Feli. I can help you find your next class if you’re lost. What’s the number?”  


“Three-hundred and ninety-four,” I replied, fumbling for my schedule to confirm. “I’m Arthur, by the way. Pleasure.”  


Feliciano looked over my shoulder at the paper and nodded; he also scooted us closer to the wall to avoid passing traffic. He told me the room I was looking for was on the floor above, right next to the staircase on the left side facing the lake, so it would be hard to miss.  


“Gehen!” A booming voice echoed down the hallway. I turned my head towards the direction of the voice while students hurried out of the hall and into classrooms. “No more loitering, get to class!”  


He didn’t look like a professor… did this school have hall monitors?  


Feli didn’t seem too afraid nor worried about getting into trouble for being in the hallway. In fact, his already gleeful smile practically turned ecstatic.  


“Ludwig! Ciao!” he cried, skipping towards him, practically gliding into a hug. “I haven’t seen you since this morning!”  


“It’s been ninety minutes,” Ludwig replied, tentatively placing his arms around the Italian.  


His demeanor calmed significantly compared to the tall, scary yelling German he was seconds prior. Compared to Feliciano - who was dressed in a loosely buttoned down shirt and a long cardigan - Ludwig was a tie away from the full business look. I approached from the side after being graciously ditched by a window, and tapped Feliciano on the back.  


“Thank you,” I said, “for showing me where the class is.”  


Ludwig looked down at me. “Kirkland, was it? I’ve been told about you.”  


I blinked. “Are you… a professor here? You don’t look much older than I.”  


“I’m not, no. One could say I have a lot of influence, however,” he replied, giving somewhat of a smile that didn’t quite make it.  


Feliciano slid down the German’s chest and turned around to face me. He rolled his eyes playfully and slapped Ludwig’s arm. Leaning over, he gave me the very classically European cheek kisses - of which I haven’t given nor received in years - and said a “see you later” rather than goodbye. Did that count as friend making?  


The next class I had wasn’t as interesting as Transcendency. In fact it was a lot of mathematics; I wasn’t prepared with a calculator, so long hand work took up a few pages of notebook paper. I really needed to go shopping. I left the class and attempted to find the cafe that sold tea which Kiku told me about - but I hardly made it to the stairwell before the man turned the corner and waved.  


“You look tired,” he said, looking me up and down. “Math class?”  


“Would it have killed the man to open the shades? The dark makes me want to nap for years upon end.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and rubbed my temple. “Tea would be very nice right about now.”  


Kiku smiled nodded. “Let’s go get that then. You have a quick meeting with the headmaster in twenty minutes, then you’re practically done for the day!”  


We walked down two flights of stairs to the ground floor and ended up outside for ten seconds as we crossed a small garden. A couple sat on the marble bench snogging. No shame, they were living in it.  


The tea was brewed the right way, thankfully. I’ve been forced to buy the sad bags of tea lately since the stores near my apartment were always selling them cheaper. Kiku ordered sencha - it smelled delicious. We took our time walking up the main hallway close by. Some students waved at Kiku as we passed them; I was a bit in awe at how friendly many of them were. Not that I was expecting rude peers, but the way movies would portray schools didn’t help my assumptions.  


“What does your bracelet say?” I asked while we approached the large doors decorated with gold, astrological patterns.  


Kiku looked down at the charms dangling from his bracelet. “Yokai,” he replied, looking at them thoughtfully. “And the other is Henge.”  


“What does that mean?”  


“It means perhaps you should learn some Japanese,” he said slyly, knocking on the door. I saw the smirk he gave, and the little rise of the shoulders as if he was suppressing a laugh.  


“Perhaps I should.”  


The door opened to a well kept and orderly office, completed with walls lined of with books and trinkets and maps with small pins placed around the continents. The desk was large and supported even more books and papers alongside a sleek, silvery computer; the window behind it took up the whole of the wall, and the curtains were kept aside by moon-shaped buckles. The headmaster sat in the chair, talking quietly on a phone. He looked up from the spot he was staring at and nodded at us acknowledgingly. Kiku folded his hands behind his back, ready to be patient if needed. I took the seconds to look further at the pins on the maps. Quite a few were in Europe, if not the majority, there were different colored pins in at least every country; some in Asia and even fewer in the Americas - ironically. I glanced at Kiku, trying to get his attention to perhaps get some answers about the reasoning behind it.  


The phone killed back to its receiver and the man in the chair stood up. Dear Lord, he was tall… and oddly familiar looking. His blond hair was long, strands braided, and mostly kept up, out of his face. His eyes were hooded, dark, and green; it took a tick just staring at his face that I realized he almost looked exactly like Ludwig.  
“Headmaster Beilschmidt, this is Arthur Kirkland, the new addition to our academy,” Kiku introduced as the headmaster walked around the desk to stand in front of me.  


“Yes, of course, we exchanged a few emails regarding your admission to the school,” he said in a deep voice that frankly I wasn’t prepared for. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kirkland. I hear your coven is well-known in Great Britain.”  


“Oh, yes, we’re… rather far reaching, but our numbers have shrunk over the ages, as you could imagine…” I said, fiddling with my fingers as I tried to keep eye-contact.  


“Mmm… hunters are unfortunately a continuous species, it seems. Here at this school, the faculty are under strict obligation to assure your safety on these grounds, and our public safety is always a phone call away if for any reason you feel unsafe at your home. I understand you live in Pascoag. You take the bus, correct?”  


“Yes, sir.”  


“Very good. Let us know if their charge goes up later this season and we will gladly accommodate the cost.”  


“Thank you kindly, sir,” I said.  


He walked back to his desk and sat on the edge, picking through the colors of pins in the container. He looked up at the map as he pulled a green pin out. “England?”  


I blinked. “Y-yes.”  


“Thought so.”  


The headmaster pushed it into the map right over where Windsor would be. My question was answered without another word. Kiku sipped his tea nonchalantly and looked at me. We were both dismissed after Mr. Beilschmidt shook my hand with such strength, I almost winced.  


“You were grabbing your jacket throughout that meeting, you know,” Kiku commented, shutting the door behind us to leave the headmaster to himself. I looked down to my left hand, which clutched at the thin fabric, coiling around the object resting in the inner pocket.  


I unzipped the windbreaker and took out my wand. I rolled it in my palm to check for any damage I may have unconsciously done to it. The jewels adorning the handle shimmered in the soft light of the hallway; the quartz on the top - attached to the wand with a copper wire that coiled down the length like a vine. It was beautiful. It was ancient. It was priceless. Kiku tilted his head to look at it without saying another word. The copper was warm after spending the day trapped between my body heat and the jacket, but the quartz was cool to the touch.  


“It’s been awhile since I’ve used this defensively, but goodness,” I said, glancing back up to Kiku with a smile, “that man is extraordinarily intimidating.”  


My next class was cut short due to a personal matter for the professor and we were sent off with the syllabus. As I walked out of the academy, I pulled my phone out of my pocket for the first time to see if I had missed any calls or texts from Abby; I worried for Peter when I wasn’t with him - if he would get in trouble one way or another. He still was regarded as a witch regardless of his fae origin, and witch hunts still prevailed today.  


I waited fifteen minutes at the end of the long pathway to the road for the bus to pick me up and head towards the town. The sun was slowly but surely making its way down to the horizon with a few hours to spare. I was tiring myself out by the time I reached Abby’s house and knocked on the door.  


“I hope he wasn’t too much trouble today,” I said to her when she opened the door with Peter’s hand in hers. “Tomorrow we’ll be over later. My classes don’t start until afternoon, but, ah, they go into the night, so I’ll be back after dinner. Should only happen twice a week.”  


Her curly hair was pinned up into a large bun atop her head and out of her face, but she didn’t come off as tired as I expected her to be.  


“Won’t be a problem at all. Peter was very helpful today; we made some candles and went stone searching in the back to paint.” She patted his head and handed back the lunchbox. “You certainly look like you need a nap, so I won’t keep you. I hope your first day of school went well!” she said, winking. “See you two tomorrow!”  


The walk back to the flat was quiet. Peter kicked a few rocks that fell into our path and rushed into the building as soon as I unlocked the main door. Once we both were in the safety of our home and the door locked, shoes were removed and left by the front and Peter made a call of “dinner?” while shifting through my bag for my computer so he could watch more videos. He made himself comfortable on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket. I blinked heavily and pulled my wand out.  


“Esolc sniatruc, spmal no,” I mumbled. The quartz gave a dull glow and the lights clicked on around the singular space, and the curtains to the balcony pulled together to block out the dying sunlight. In the kitchen, I stared into the fridge until the pizza bites convinced me to throw them into the microwave. “Small dinner, tonight. Sorry,” I said to Peter as I sat beside him with a plate to share. I tucked my arm around him as he stared intently at the laptop screen. We ate and I sat with him until he started nodding off to sleep, leaving the laptop to turn off. I washed his face, and exchanged his trousers for pajama bottoms. Drowsily, he brushed his teeth and crawled up the ladder to the bed. I followed suit, charming the lights off and set the alarm on my phone, leaving it underneath my pillow.


	2. Sunset Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur finally has a night class. Is he sure this isn't Mean Girls?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a late update!! I had an internship in July and August that only added to my workload, but the chapter is done and I should hopefully have more time to write the future chapters in my in-between time in Scotland! I'll be there for the semester, so excuse me if Chapter 3 is late, I may be adjusting.

I confirmed waking up at nine-thirty would beat seven o’clock any day when Peter’s hand was shoved right into my eye. The sun lit the blinds from behind, giving the room a chartreuse glow. I was warm under the sheets, and I desperately did not want to leave them.  


Peter’s skin tone had shifted to a pale blue overnight as the spell to hide his regular form faded off. His pointed ears poked through the mop of blond hair that fell over his eyes. He generated heat like it was no one’s business while he slept - something that had saved me from purchasing more blankets for the bed. He was a good kid. Troublesome at times, yes, but the coven had been too cruel in their sentence for a six year old boy.  


He grumbled some incoherent English under his breath and his feet kicked out behind him and into the nerves of my thigh.  


“Breakfast,” he yawned, turning over.  


“Give me a moment,” I replied, pulling my phone out from under the pillow to turn off the alarm before it could go off. I texted Abby that we’d be over in two hours and charmed the blinds open and let the sun shine in.  


I already knew we had nothing in the house and I really needed to go grocery shopping, so when I climbed out of the bed, I went straight to my wallet. I had cashed my last paycheck over a week ago, and had about $45 left for food until my next paycheck at the end of the week. Biweekly pay was awful.  


“Hey Peter,” I said, shoving the cash back inside. “How about Dunkin for breakfast?”  


“Can we get munchkins?” he whispered back.  


“Of course.”  


“Only the chocolate ones though.”  


“It would be ridiculous any other way,” I replied, smiling. “Let’s get ready so we can go shopping before I drop you off at Abby’s, all right?”  


He slid off the bed and climbed down the ladder. He rubbed at the tips of his ears and frowned; I noticed the glance towards where I was as he walked over to the desk and pulled his own wand from a box. It was slender and simple - with etchings of Celtic down the length. Peter walked over the the mirror in the bathroom and stared at his blue self in displeasure. I watched quietly as he attempted the spell I did a few days ago. He wasn’t the best at magic yet - it took a lot of practice and years of training and study - but as a fae, some came naturally to him. Unfortunately, wand spells did not.  


“I hate myself!” he shouted, throwing the wand angrily into the sink. I rushed over and stopped him from attacking the mirror.  


“Stop, stop,” I said, “there is nothing wrong with you - even I couldn’t cast those spells at your age.”  


We both stared into the mirror together, our reflections displaying two very differently similar people. Peter rubbed his cheek and looked at his hand as if the color of his skin would rub off; his eyes watered.  


“Why?” he asked.  


Brushing his fringe from his forehead, I stood behind him and rested my chin lightly atop his head. Peter was so much more talkative when the spell faded.  


“Humans just don’t understand what is out of the status quo. They’re not used to people different from them, they get intimidated out of ignorance.” I paused. “And I don’t want anyone to hurt you. You’re all I have, and I love you… and see? We’re not all too different, you and I. We both have fantastic English accents that will make all your American friends swoon, and untamable blond hair --”  


“And dumb eyebrows.”  


I snapped my mouth shut. He wasn’t wrong.  


“They’re not dumb: thick brows are trending… I think,” I said, squinting.  
We quipped snarky comments back and forth as we got ready for the day; I enjoyed the days when Peter would talk to me, even if it was in bursts and included some extreme personality traits. Every few days, because we went out so often, I have had to hold back tears as I cast the illusion spell on him that made him look like an average human kid - and the personality slowly faded. We quietly exited the apartment and I turned to lock the door behind us. Our neighbor sat in his chair at the end of the hallway, staring blankly at us. Peter took my hand and pulled my attention away from staring back at the elderly man.  


There was a Dunkin Donuts a ten minute walk from us, and Peter insisted on holding the munchkin box like a baby while we quickly ran through the nearest food market. Now, I’m not necessarily the best at choosing what foods went together and which ones did not, but I know pasta plus boiling water is good and some vegetables added with it would make it seem more healthy. I grabbed some cereal that was on sale and a gallon of milk and we checked out and booked it towards Abby’s house.  


“You don’t happen to have room in your fridge, do you?” I asked, breathless as she opened her door. I held up the three bags and she laughed.  


“Of course, come on in, you two.”  


Abby’s house on the outside already looked cozy, almost reminiscent of old British cottages; the inside was similar in that aspect. Peter ran into her living room without a moment’s hesitation, going over to their crafts that they’ve been working on yesterday. The incense burning smelled like the earth after a heavy rainfall. There were crystals in every room - some lay out next to her crafting desk to be used for customers, others decorated the bookshelves and windowsills. I noticed the increase in Halloween themed items; Abby stated that its her busiest time of the year for her shop. Peter’s help was detrimental. I chuckled lightly to myself at her enthusiasm. She took the bags from my hands and led me to the kitchen that was tucked away next to the staircase. She placed the vegetables and milk into the fridge and set the rest of the bags next to it on the counter and wrote a simple “Arthur” on a sticky note, taping it to the bags along with a little arrow to the refrigerator. I gave Peter a peck on top of his head and thanked Abby, assuring her of the sainthood she will probably achieve in the future.  


I went through my schedule for the afternoon when I got on the bus. The three classes today looked to be a mix of interesting - such as the Study of Ancient Runes which started in about an hour, followed by Astronomy not too long after, and a common class Chemistry laboratory that started ninety minutes after Astronomy gets out, which I guessed was a good time to find some dinner on campus and get some work done. I wouldn’t leave the school grounds until 8:20pm. Delightful, I thought.  


By the time I walked down the long stone path to the front of the academy, I counted twice the amount of students I had seen yesterday lounging on the grass or taking walks through the gardens. Afternoons were busy, I noted. Finding my first class of the day wasn’t too difficult this time, since the professor was kind enough to email us a map she had made. Ancient Runes were fairly interesting in the history of witches: beginning with the Germanic and Norse people, it was a language that developed into divination and taught our earlier ancestors the secret to witchcraft and magic. I would say that was when much of the world began to see the first century casters. And of course that is also when we started to be condemned.  


I sat next to a more than confident, wildly blond-haired, wide-grinning European man who sat lounging back, doodling chair designs in his notebook. Within the shade of the room, not a shadow was cast upon him. On my other side was a young looking girl, who smoothed out her dress, twirling her sparkly blue pen in her left hand; or perhaps her entire hand was glittery. Small bells hanged from her ears, tucked between her short hair. She glanced at me and smiled.  


“Hello,” she whispered as the professor walked in. “I like your wand.”  


I immediately glanced down at my jacket. My wand’s quartz tip poked out of the front windbreaker pocket. Face flushed, I tucked it back in and smiled awkwardly back at her.  


She pressed her pink lips together, realizing the breech of confidentiality and shrugged. Opening a locket on her necklace, she pulled out a tiny, needle-like object.  


“My wand isn’t very intimidating when I’m like this. Yours looks very strong.” She glanced to and from the professor to me, taking down notes as she spoke. “My name is Erika. I hope we can be friends; I’m usually not allowed non-magic friends… it’s complicated.”  


“Arthur,” I replied, nodding. “Sounds like a strict rule there; is it a family thing? I was told some families here have quite the… rivalry.”  


The professor lectured about the basic alphabet of the well known runes.  


Erika shrugged lightly, cheeks going pink. “Mostly it’s just my overprotective brother.” She twirled the ends of her hair. “We look fairly similar, so it would be hard to miss him. He’s very kind though, so I don’t want you to think he’s awful. Magic users have a reputation, as I’m sure you know…”  


I looked down at my notebook, gliding my pencil along the printed lines. “Unfortunately,” I said simply, not looking back up.  


The professor then brought out her collection of runes and let the students pass them around the room while she pointed out symbols on a stone tablet she held in her hand. The man next to me received the rune stones and filled them around between his fingers, clearly trying to suppress the laugh that was forming in his throat. He ordered a few of the runes to spell out ‘DICKBUTT’ and took a photo with his phone before sending it away. I pressed my lips together; it was a little funny.  


He looked at me and slid the runes back in the little bag they came in and handed it over, whispering, “Hav det sjovt.”  


The runes were smooth, more modern, but in my practice with magic, I hadn’t used them much compared to some of my brothers in Great Britain. It would be intriguing to see what new magic I could practice if I ever acquired runes of my own.  


Astronomy was more interesting than I thought it would be. As we went over the syllabus, the professor talked about the stars and their constellations; what myths and tales were conjured up by humanity over the years about the sun and the planets; he also corrected students who thought this was an astrology class, but told them he would bring in horoscopes once a week if they participated well. We looked at photographs on slides taken by the professor’s personal telescope. When asked how old the photos were, the professor merely laughed and continued on showing us a picture of a comet that passed by the planet in 1680.  


My stomach was gurgling by the time I walked down a stone hallway outside to the main building where I knew food awaited me. It was beautiful outside; the sun poked out from behind the clouds as it dipped low in the sky. The shadows of the trees were inhabited by many students, eating their dinners or writing in notebooks. For many of them, if not most, it appeared their day was over - friends walked in packs in the opposite path that I took home, some went by the lake. I imagined what their homes looked like. Were they large and grandiose? Humble and inviting? What type of beings were they? When they walked through their doors, did their skin turn to diamonds?  


My head buzzed with prospects. It wasn’t until I noticed Kiku sitting ahead of me among the arches of the hall that I stopped thinking altogether and walk over. He was reading, the book resting against his knee as he sipped a small cup of tea quietly. His reading glasses were perched on the tip of his nose.  


“Good evening, Kiku,” I said, pulling my bag back up my shoulder. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”  


Kiku placed a bookmark in the crevice of the pages and looked up, placing his glasses atop his head. “Yes, it is,” he replied, looking at the sky. “Autumn is arriving quicker than I could have imagined.”  


“Do you like Autumn?”  


He smiled. “I prefer Spring, if I’m being honest. I like the softer colors. But Autumn just means Winter is near and I know many of my friends will enjoy being out earlier in the day. I’ll get to see them more.”  


I sat down on an arch next to him, holding my annoyed stomach. “Nocturnal students?” I asked as he nodded. “So they really can’t come out during the day?”  


Kiku shrugged. “Some definitely can’t. Others have just different sleeping schedules, or it’s simply more convenient for them to attend classes at night. You have a night class, don’t you, Arthur? You’re not a creature of the night.”  


“No, I suppose not,” I said, “Though the moon is very important to us; she charges our wands and magic, we’re very fond of her. I wouldn’t be shocked if most witches referred to themselves as ‘creatures of the night.’”  


It was quiet for a few seconds, but I could see Kiku was contemplating something from the look on his face and the way he dodged into his bag to pull out two small containers. He handed one to me as he opened the other. It was food.  


“You consider me a friend, right?” he asked me. I blinked and nodded. He bit his lip and poked at the food in the box. “You trust me with so much about your witchcraft and the like, I feel almost embarrassed that I know all this now and yet… I haven’t told you anything about me.”  


I held up a hand. “Stop. Stop. It’s all right. I’m sorry, Kiku, you don’t have to feel guilty about not telling me anything. I was just so happy to talk to someone who wouldn’t judge me, I just blabbed on and on about it since I knew you knew what I was since the day I met you -- which was yesterday, mind you. I don’t blame you for not saying anything on day-two of knowing someone,” I stated. “Even if they’re handsomely English.”  


He snorted, covering his mouth immediately. His cheeks were rosy now, the small smile causing his eyes to crease. “Yes, of course.” The book made its way into his bag as he started eating. “I will tell you. One day, I promise.”  


“No rush,” I replied, opening the box he gave me: it was full of dumplings and noodles that Kiku called gyoza and yakisoba. We ate in silence, listening to the trees rustle in the wind. New students started walking up to the campus, for what I could only assume was the night classes. Some carried umbrellas to block what was left of the sun in the sky as it was disappearing behind the hill. As I got up to clean my space and put away the papers I was skimming through from my other classes, Kiku packed up as well to head home. We looked at each other and broke the silence with an awkward laugh.  


“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”  


Kiku nodded. “Of course, of course. Have a good night, Arthur.”  


“You too,” I said, walking down the rest of the hall to where I read the class was.  


“Oh, and Arthur!” Kiku shouted from behind me. I looked over my shoulder. He pulled his bag over his shoulder and took a breath. “Henge means transform.”  


I didn’t know what he meant at first, but after a few seconds of walking away I realized what he was referring to and laughed quietly to myself. I could have Googled it, he told me.  


The direction I was walking led me passed the main courtyard in front of the largest building. More students sauntered in, talking amongst themselves in a hushed tone, save for two students by the fountain who were starting to get a crowd. Curiosity bested me. One shouted far louder than anyone I’ve heard of at the academy. His face was beet red, contrasting his silvery hair that stuck precariously out of his dark beanie. The entire conversation was entirely in German, save for some infamous English curses. On the receiving end of the verbal bashing was a slender man, slightly shorter than the albino, who seemed rather impatient on wanting to leave campus already - arms crossed, chin up. The daggers he was glaring were blocked only by the glasses he wore. The distance between the two closed drastically as the albino almost seemed to teleport to the other man, grabbing a fistfull of his shirt. I looked around at the crowd, some were cheering him on, but the majority just watched. Great, bystander effect at its finest.  


It was Ludwig who emerged from the large doors, voice loud enough to halt the fist that was hurdling towards the brunet’s face. The albino dropped the shirt, pushing the man away as he walked in a straight line towards Ludwig. I prepared myself to see someone die tonight. Ludwig, despite his height advantage and overall stature, looked surprisingly uncomfortable at how this other man talked to him. They talked in harsh whispers to each other as some individuals walked over to the brunet man, making sure he was all right - he brushed his shirt like it was contaminated and spoke to them just as quietly, adjusting his glasses before he glanced one last time at the man in front of Ludwig.  


This day, oh man, I thought. Or rather, this night. I wondered if all nightlife here was like this. The German had waved everyone off, either to their classes or just out of the courtyard, holding the albino by his arm. They were both abashed to the point that it was obvious this a common occurrence. Wherever Ludwig was going to bring that one, I wouldn’t want to be in his position. Where I was suppose to be was down the back hall; there were a few stone steps to go down on the way to the small building behind the rest. A few other students seemed to be hurrying along as well as we squeezed through the door to a rather normal looking lab room.  


There were three columns of tables that sat two students, which made the room quite cramped when twenty-four of us piled in. The professor sat on his desk, handing out papers as students walked in. I sat in the third row, which seemed like a good choice from what I’ve seen in TV shows. Not too much attention is ever drawn to the third row: fact. Someone almost immediately sat next to me, and I jumped in my seat at the motion.  


“Lo siento, amigo,” he whispered, pulling the black scarf off his neck. “I’ll try not to make a habit out of that.”  


A Spaniard. Lovely.  


“I can only assume this means we’d be lab partners?” I asked, pulling out a pencil from my bag. He leaned over towards me, slowly, and sniffed. My only thought was that this class was going to be the weirdest one of the bunch. “Can I help you?”  


Immediately moving back, he rubbed his nose with the corner of his sleeve. “Aha,” he started, “you smell pretty human to me; I was just curious. Makes it interesting when a human-based monstruo is in a night class.”  


I merely stared at him.  


“Antonio Fernàndez Carriedo,” he said, holding out his hand. “I don’t mean to pry into your personal life, amigo, it’s just pretty hard to not mention. You’re probably going to be noticed by a lot of people in this class.”  


Glancing about the room, I looked over the students that sat around me. Of course they all looked normal to me, but the opinion Antonio made had me clutching for my wand for safety. The last of the students piled into the room. Two blonds brushed passed the desk in front of us, the shorter one gripping the other’s jacket like it was a leash as I made eye-contact with him. Behind his glasses, his brows were pulled together, as if he had a migraine and didn’t bother taking pain killers when he got up. His nose flared as he passed me - it was uncomfortable to think I smelt like anything, and I subconsciously sniffed my shirt. They sat behind us and Antonio made a quick swivel of his chair.  


“Francis,” he sang, resting his elbow on the desk. The one with the longer hair and light stubble looked away from his brooding compatriot towards us and smiled. A historical red flag rose in my mind.  


“Oui, mon cher?”  


A Frenchman. Lovely.  


“You must’ve heard Roderich was going to propose, si?” Antonio asked. “I figured he would have soon, but not this soon. I saw Gil being dragged off a few minutes ago. Did you know?”  


Francis’ perfectly groomed eyebrow rose. “You think just because I’m a… Ami, that’s not how it works.”  


“I was inclining because you’re from France.”  


They laughed. I sat there a bit confused, but trying not to look like I was straight out eavesdropping. The one next to Francis was doing anything but looking back at me. His jaw clenched and unclenched uncomfortably, and he came off awfully pale. His phone became his distraction, as he ran his finger up the screen. He stopped at whatever he was reading and I noticed the hard swallow he made before he shouldered Francis and brought his attention towards the phone. Francis looked at it and gave the man a pitied frown.  


“Qu’est-ce tu aimerais que je fasse?” he whispered, giving Antonio the ‘one moment’ motion. When he didn’t get a response, Francis turned back to us and shook his head. Only then did he look at me. “You look like un rosbif, non?”  


“That’s an old slur, frog,” I shot back, determined not to lose whatever this was going to end up being this year.  


Antonio chuckled, lowering his voice as the professor started talking. “Oh, Francis, you never change. This is…” He held out his hand towards me and paused as he remembered I hadn’t introduced myself to him.  


“Arthur,” I said. “Charmed.”  


“I bet you are,” Francis replied. It was on. “This tall, blond, and broodingly out of character, but still handsome one is Alfred. He’s having some personal situations this week; hasn’t eaten in awhile.”  


Alfred’s glare shifted to Francis as he was introduced and shot back to me. His eyes were blue, I thought at least. Perhaps grey? I couldn’t tell. But damn, he did look tired.  


Francis tapped his fingernails on the table and we were all quiet for a moment as the professor went over the syllabus and what chemistry labs we were going to work on through the semester. I hadn’t taken any type of normal chemistry classes before, but the way some of the formulas looked on the paper reminded me of a potions lesson my mother taught me at our home.  


“I’d rather be back at your birthday party, Al,” Antonio whispered, turning his head back again. “Dios mio, you know the best parts of the city.”  


I assumed he meant the inner city, or downtown, since I lived in the outer suburbs of the only major city in the area. Unless these guys traveled somewhere else.  


“We’ll go again sometime,” was the reply I heard from Alfred. His voice was softer than I expected it to be, and had the pleasantly monotone whisper of a Northern American accent. I glanced over my shoulder to see him with half his face concealed in his hands. He made an extra effort not to look back at me.  


I didn’t turn around again for the rest of the class. Antonio assured me that by next class, he’d be a completely different person. I nodded; it would be a long semester if I had to get a cold shoulder twice a week. I doodled little cauldrons in my notebook as the night began. I’d still hear the drumming of nails from Francis on the table behind me, which if I wasn’t trying to pay attention to the last bits of information the professor was saying, would have probably lulled me to sleep. I should have had a more caffeinated tea, I thought, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand. When the class ended, half the students just seemed to evaporate from their seats - eager to either get to their next class or hang around the campus for a while. Quarter-past-eight and I was ready to nap on the bus that would leave in fifteen minutes. I moved between the cliques that formed in the hallways, the hairs on my forearms prickling up as a cool breeze blew from the arches. Alfred and Francis stood in a shadowed corner, talking with the albino man from earlier. They spoke in hushed tones, the man, ‘Gil’ as I heard Antonio refer to him, leaned against the column with such stillness, I wondered if he was trying to look like a statue. Francis had his hands on his hips, obviously the one doing most of the talking while Alfred… Alfred was indulging in whatever was in the flask he was chugging. I didn’t know if alcohol was allowed on campus, but more power to him, I guessed.  


He did notice me as I ambled by; watching like a cat did a bird. I didn’t break the staredown as I made it to the stairwell. He lowered the flask and brushed his lips with a finger. I thought I saw a smirk there.  


The bus arrived just on time, and was warmer than the outside was. I anticipated seeing Peter. Hopefully he didn’t fuss too much to Abby about dinner. Not that he wouldn’t eat anything at this point… I found myself smelling my shirt again, letting the fabric drop since I concluded I smelt like absolutely nothing. If so many nocturnal students can figure out that I was human just by smelling me, that didn’t sound fair to the rest of the students. I slumped back against the seat as we approached the outskirts of town. The best way to think about it was not thinking about it at all.  


Abby had Peter in pajamas already when I arrived after nine. She handed my shopping bags to me along with the clothes Peter came in. The boy was exhausted. He climbed on my back as soon as I knelt down and coiled his arms around my neck. Abby chuckled, patting Peter’s head. We discussed the next few days plans and she excitedly asked about my classes today in which I told her there was too much to talk about with a fifty pound kid weighing on my spine. Rain check.  


“Taolf.” I tapped the bags with my wand and put it back in my pocket, looping the hovering bags with my finger as I waved goodbye to Abby and walked home under the streetlights.


	3. Which Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's trouble in the air, they can smell it.

My reception upon arriving back on the academy’s campus was, to say the least, unexpected. I was exhausted when I woke up the morning after having classes go late; I much prefered the days I could sleep in. Peter was quiet again today, walking into Abby’s house without looking back, per usual. I thought about the elderly man living nextdoor to us; he had moved his chair closer to our door and walking out of the apartment nearly scared the magic right out of me. All he did was stare, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was just an extremely lifelike doll and moving him around was a huge prank. 

“I read that they found her body under the tree practically charred to nothing…”

“I thought they hanged her.”  
“Yeah, they did, but she was still alive until…”

Glancing up from my phone, I looked over at the students in the common making loud conversation. From what I was hearing, I severely hoped they were talking about a novel and not something real.

“Arthur!”

I turned towards the school to see Kiku half-running out of the front doors with a cup of tea and a worried look on his face. I met him in the middle to prevent him from tripping and falling on his face with the insane velocity he was going. 

“Arthur, are you okay?” he asked just as I was about to.

“I’m… fine, thank you? How are you?” I replied, sniffing the tea he gave me to hold as he collected himself. Chai. Lovely.

“You… didn’t hear about it then?”

“Don’t play the pronoun game, Kiku, what is it?”

“The witch lynching.”

I swallowed. “When?”

“Last night. Near the reservoir. Police reported the body not too long after you should have been going home. I was nervous. You don’t live near the reservoir do you?”

My gaze went to the ground, mentally mapping out the area in my head. The reservoir was a twenty-five minute drive away. “No,” I said, rubbing my temple with my finger. “No, I live closer to the city. How - how do you know it was a witch?” We certainly didn’t give much away in terms of looks. 

One of the students talking about it nearby popped into our conversation. 

“There was a picture of the evidence left at the scene. Her wand was with her, or at least with what was left of her; did look like she gave a fight too since some suspects checked into the hospital with odd wounds this morning. Girl was probably only fifteen -”

“Stop,” I said, cutting him off. “That’s enough, I don’t…” My palm pressed against my forehead. The worry I had for Peter skyrocketed like a firework.

“So are you a witch then? Or since you’re a boy, are you a wizard? Do you folk always carry your wands on your person or just when you’re practicing? Can you really fly on a broomstick? I saw it a few times in films!”

“Etum,” I uttered, poking my wand through my jacket. The boy’s voice dissipated into the air as he continued harassing me with silent questions. I looked at Kiku, who took the cue to tell the student off and get to class with such a demeanor he sounded like Ludwig. Did silencing charms go away after time? Not sure, never checked that. 

Kiku led me away towards the inside of the academy, the main hall flooding with light. I sipped his tea gingerly when he gestured towards it, and was quick to sit down when we found a bench. 

“I’m sorry about them, Arthur.”

“Don’t be, it’s all right to be over-curious when something happens…” I said, sipping the tea once more before handing it back to him. 

“You’re scared for your brother?”

“I always am. But his caretaker is an experienced witch; I trust her to take care of him… If this late witch was as young as he said… Her magic, whatever kind she had, likely wasn’t strong enough to hold many people off.” Rubbing my hands together to warm my iced fingers, I closed my eyes. “Hunters aren’t as scared of us as they used to be,” I joked lightly. Kiku wasn’t buying. 

“I’m sorry.” He bowed his head. I could see the way his red markings arched with the furrow of his brow, partially hidden by his fringe. “I wish,” he said, raising his head, “I could have prevented the attack.”

I shifted to turn towards him, letting my arm drape across the back of the bench. The tone he gave was one of guilt, and it baffled me. My intention not to pry into his personal life was still being upheld, but damn, he was making it so difficult. I didn’t say anything, but I certainly gave him a confused look. 

“I, well, sort of can see things? Sometimes,” he whispered, raising his shoulders. “My ancestors are far better than I am since, technically, I’m still maturing.” Kiku puffed his cheeks, looking around the hallway. “And my kind are suppose to get along very well with witches. My heart goes out to you, Arthur.” 

A familiar was the first word that came to mind. In which some witches chose creatures to guide and aid them and act as companions. Of course, I thought, witches of any era could have gotten along swimmingly with other supernatural species, but I couldn’t stray from the idea that Kiku was perhaps something close to one. 

“Thank you, Kiku,” I said, adjusting my bag. “I appreciate it.”

Our conversation was interrupted by an encroaching Ludwig, whose hands were folded behind his back as he looked at us. Kiku nodded a hello to him and their exchanged small smiles. He turned to me and inhaled slowly.

“The headmaster would like a word with you, Mr. Kirkland, before you and the other witches at the academy attend your next classes,” he exclaimed, holding out his hand. “I am to escort you to his office this morning. Sorry Kiku, for stealing him.”

Kiku got up from the bench and pulled his bag over his shoulder. “No worries, we’ll talk to each other later. Have a good rest of your day, Arthur. Text me if you ever need anything, all right?” He handed me a slip of paper with his phone number on it; I put it in my pocket. 

Taking Ludwig’s hand, I pulled myself up from the bench and followed him down the hallway and back up to where, just a few days before, Headmaster Beilschmidt sat in his large office chair, waiting. We walked into the room and I was surprised at the number of witches that stood around the room. At least twenty six students looked at me as I shifted my weight, aware of the combination of magical energy that coursed between us all. It didn’t matter what type of magic we practiced, all witches felt the energy of another when nearby. I wasn’t quite sure if Ludwig or the headmaster, whom I was so positively sure was his father, could feel it. 

Said man sat in his chair, disturbed, rubbing his thumb to the edge of his index finger. He looked up to all of us and let out a short, low growling sound through his throat that reminded me of a guard dog. 

“We at Ardeat are immensely saddened and troubled at the news of the murder of a young witch by the reservoir, in which I am sure you have all heard of today. This witch was not in place here at the academy, however we are aware of the risks you all face in everyday life, being one of the only kind on campus whose presence in this world is most publically known. We wish to prevent any further attacks on you and your peers: before you leave my office, please grab the keychains Ludwig is holding. They are panic buttons designed to immediately contact the academy’s security team and use GPS to help them find you and assist in whatever you may need - give it an attack, if you are nervous, or simply if you need someone to walk you home.” The headmaster stared at every one of us individually. “You witches are a special race; myself and my compatriots will do everything in our power to protect you.” 

The keychain was small enough to fit snugly between the palm of my hand, square in shape, and had the emblem of the school on the back - etched out discreetly. I promptly attached it to a lanyard with my apartment keys and ID. The other witches in the room, men and women alike exchanged glances and wary nods as we left. For some reason, I have never felt so galvanized than after spending just minutes with all that magic in a single room. I walked with a power stride to my class.

 

The next day went by routine with my classes. The afternoon faded into evening as the students swapped in their lives, and those just arriving met each other with laughs and pats on the back. Some individuals went over to some of the witches I had seen in the office just yesterday and gave them a friendly hug. I thought, if these students were awake during the night, some were bound to have lived close to where the girl was lynched, perhaps some had seen or heard it happen.

And did nothing. 

I couldn’t blame them though if that was the case. Hunters didn’t just stop at one kind; if they could kill anything, they would. What would I have done if I was there? If I was in her shoes… I scratched at my forehead. Peter’s spell would fade by tonight and he’ll want to know more about what happened. It would be useless to fret about it any further this evening, and I focused on walking down the stairs to the pathway that led to my insane lab class.

Antonio was not sitting at the table we sat in earlier in the week. We locked eyes as he was sitting next to someone else near the front. He gave a small shrug and mouthed something likely in Spanish, because I couldn’t decipher a word of it. Moving my gaze over to our table, I stopped walking. In the place of Antonio, sat Alfred. He twirled a pen between his fingers, smiling at his phone as he placed it at a usual not flattering angle and took a photo, the yellow screen of Snapchat following soon after. I swallowed nervously, eyeing him as I slowly walked towards the seat next to his. He looked… more fleshed out: cheeks a bit pinker, and his lips had more color to them compared to his skin. When he looked up at me, now standing beside him, his eyes were definitely blue, not the grey tone I thought they were before. In fact, I’m surprised I mistook them.

“Hey,” he said, moving his bag over for me. “Sorry - I hog a lot of space.”

I probably stared at him, almost enchanted, for another solid minute before I placed my bag on the ground and sat in the stool beside him. 

“That’s quite all right… You’re broad,” I replied without thinking my sentence through. My breath hitched and I was quick for the add on, “Like, your shoulders, you’re tall and it happens, you’re good… dude.”

What the actual fuck, Arthur, I thought to myself.

Alfred clicked his jaw and looked back and forth from his phone before putting it away with a bemused smile. God, his teeth were bleach white and perfect, this man was ridiculous. I could see the blue veins running through his hands while he cracked his knuckles with his fingers. Everything about him seemed to move with such fluidity.

“Are you a dancer?” I asked, cursing myself as I did so.

He looked caught off guard by the question. Moving in the stool, he rested his forearm on the desk to look at me with a different smirk than what he gave me Tuesday night. “Am I a dancer? No, I wouldn’t consider myself one. I do like to dance though,” he said. “Are you?”

“I can waltz, but that’s about as far as I go.”

Alfred nodded. “Waltzing is nice. Classic.”

We stared at each other for a moment more as the professor came in and started handing out the papers for tonight’s experiment. We both swiveled to face forward, but I could feel him glancing at me, and I’m sure he could feel the same. 

“You were an ass the other day,” I told him. 

He nodded as the professor talked, and I briefly wondered if he heard me. 

“I know. Sorry,” he replied, writing his name on the paper.  _ Alfred F. Jones _ , in slanted half-cursive. “I, uh, hadn’t eaten in awhile.”

“So Francis said. Where is he by the way?”

“With a girl, probably having a great time.”

“Oh,” I said, writing my name as well. “You kicked Antonio out of his seat, you know.”

Alfred grinned. “I know. I wanted to sit here so I told him to move.”

“Thought you didn’t like me,” I suggested, raising an eyebrow. 

He rested his cheek on his folded hands, propped up by his elbows. “I never said I didn’t. I was just in a bad mood. Happens when I’m hungry.”

“You’re not hungry now, I suppose?”

“Amazon finally delivered my food order,” he said, laughing quietly. “They were late. I don’t pay Prime for nothing.” 

We took a minute to read through the experiment we were to do. Vials and ingredients were passed back towards us that we organized neatly on our table. The professor told us that we were suppose to wear protective eyewear, but then laughed as most of the students snorted; who cares for eyewear? 

“What part of England are you from?” Alfred asked out of the blue, going through our checklist of measuring our supplies. 

“Windsor,” I replied. “My accent is that obvious, huh?”

He swallowed, dotting his pen on the paper and pressed his lips together before looking over at me, his glasses low on his nose. “I spent a lot of time with Brits in my life. You learn to differentiate the British dialects. Don’t suppose you can guess where I’m from?”

“America is huge, are you kidding me?” I asked, tapping my pencil to my lips. “I guess you sound Northeastern. New England? I can only assume you’re from around here.” My expression changed into a smile as he suppressed his while he nodded.

“Right on the nail, actually. Props to you.” He paused. “I do apologize for being a giant dick on Tuesday. I promise I’m not like that most days. I wasn’t expecting my first class of the night to be sitting beside a regular blooded human - your smell was a surprise… Ah, no, you don’t smell bad, if that’s what the face you’re giving me is implying. Some… night students have heightened olfactory senses. It’s good for identifying others in the dark in case one can’t see someone nearby.” 

I poured some of the chemicals into the vials. Why was it that witches or any human-based species got the short end of the stick in terms of quickly finding out what creature another is? Stupid academy rule was discriminatory. I annoyingly reached for package with a clear, grainy substance. 

“If you add that in with the chemicals, it’ll trigger an explosive reaction,” Alfred whispered. He didn’t seem to be warning me to not add it in, rather he looked quite pleased. 

“You don’t look like the science-type,” I said, putting the package down.

He shrugged. “I’ve always liked it; I used to want to be an astronaut back in the day. Though my favorite is archaeology. Something old stuff from ancient civilizations is just… fascinating.” He pushed up his glasses with the tip of his pen. “Just don’t ask me about world geography, because you will get jack-shit.”

I stifled a laugh with my hand by the sincerity in his voice. “That bad, huh?”

“Holy crap, you have no idea. I can name all fifty states, their capitals and the territories, but Goddamn - where the fuck is the Czech Republic?”

I couldn’t stop smiling behind my hands; I wasn’t expecting the class to go like this in the slightest. Antonio and Francis were right - Alfred was different. “Okay, but archaeology is pretty cool,” I said, able to collect myself. “Astronaut is a large ambition too.”

Alfred hummed quietly. “Unfortunately I learned that there’s an ever existing risk of space and solar radiation, and that does not work with my… background. So I’ll stick to doodling planets and spaceships in my notebooks.”

“Bloody hell, I wanted to be a pirate when I was a kid. My mum had to go ahead and disappoint me that they weren’t like how they were in the old films. Try and beat that,” I retorted, biting my cheek. 

“I wanted to be a movie director. However, not many cinematic masterpieces can be filmed all at night, so there went that career direction.”

“Ah, I enjoy criticizing American movies, I would have loved to leave a scathing review of yours,” I shot back. Alfred feigned insult, placing his hand to his heart. 

“You’re a monster,” he said, eyes wide and glinting. I found myself staring at them again, out of the words I was preparing to say, leaving my mouth slightly ajar. Alfred noticed and looked away, and the feeling of enthrallment faded from the corners of my head. “Um, so, do you have a favorite school genre?” he asked, pausing to look over at a pair of students who managed to trigger that explosion. 

“I enjoy literature, although I’m not super particular on what era it’s from. Classic, contemporary, both are good. If you ask me to compete in sports, I will break my neck, I can promise you.” That won a grin from my temporary lab partner. 

“Really? No sports? At all?”

“I can keep a foot ball steady, but damn do not throw one of your American baseballs at me - I will not duck -  you will break my nose.”

“It might actually break your face if I’m the one throwing it,” he replied, cracking a knuckle again. “I’ll try and keep that in mind though. Sports are at least entertaining to watch for you, right? Can’t back down from a good NFL game. The Patriots kick some ass.”

“I have no idea how your American football nonsense even works,” I answered, scribbling whatever bullshit Alfred and I did for this lab assignment. The class was nearly over. Alfred leaned over the table, closing the space between our stools and crossed out something I had written and, instead, wrote the chemical formula for the lead azide we had on our table. His jacket smelled like cleaned leather, and the soft fur on the top trim tickled my nose as he moved backwards, giving a cheeky grin as he clicked his pen closed.

I’m not sure what I was feeling the moment the professor dismissed the class, but slight disappointment roused in me as Alfred was called over to talk to him instead of letting him leave with the rest of the students. The American gave me a complying shrug, and returned it with a half-attempt of a smile and a wave of my hand. 

As I walked through the dark stone hallways, back to where the grass fought with the path, my fingers tingled as I pushed them through my fringe and rested my palms atop my head, feeling the weight on my chest loosen, and the shakiness of my breath to become much more noted. Something about Alfred was magic, it had to be. He never gave any implication to what kind of being he was; nocturnal creatures were plentiful, which didn’t help much, and the majority of our conversation was… normal. I wanted to know, not quite out of curiosity but because I felt like I needed to know. Why did his stare make me think I had taken some heavy narcotics before class? I dropped my arms and plucked out my wand from my inner pocket, rolling the length of it between my hands. The clarity of the quartz was bright against the darkness outside, like a torch, as I waited for the bus to arrive.

“Etanimulli,” I whispered, flicking the wand in a curve. The quartz glowed with the light of a jarful of fireflies, and I turned towards the unlit, fancy lamppost and tossed the light from myself to the dead bulb on the inside of the glass, filling the area with a warm ambiance. 

Peter was asleep on Abby’s sofa when she let me in to get him. I could tell he was minutes away from returning to his normal state; Abby helped cover him with my jacket as I adjusted to his weight in my arms. She placed my wand into my bag and kissed Peter gently on the cheek. He mumbled incoherently into the side of my neck and tightened his hold as I inched out of the door and down the street towards home. The spell drifted off of him like gravity defying glitter, only to disappear in the night air. I glanced down every road and into every car window we passed; I was on edge and had every good reason to be. It wasn’t late enough for teenagers to be asleep, and I brushed by a handful of them playing basketball in the street. Even as I walked up the stairs to my apartment, the old man next door stood in his doorway as voices came out of his room. I kept Peter to the opposite side of him as I unlocked the door, staring at the man like his vision invaded my personal space. My lungs ached when I locked the apartment behind me and rested my back against the wall, noting the blue ears that popped out from under my jacket. 

“We’re home, Peter,” I breathed, lowering the boy onto the couch. “What did you do today?” I pulled my laptop out and set it on the table, placing my wand next to it. 

He yawned, rubbing his face with the outside of his hands. “We played a lot of games,” he said, “and poked voodoo dolls that we made the other day.” 

“That’s fun. Did you enchant anything?”

“She did; she’s really good at it,” he replied, getting into pajamas. “Like how you are with charms.” I beamed at the compliment, as casual as it was. “When you learn some spells, can you teach me?”

I sat down on the cushions and let my head roll back. “Sure. When you’re older though. Mum would kill me if I taught you how to launch fire from your wand.” I smiled at the wide eyes he gave me. “Perhaps when you reach high school.”

“That’s so far away though!”

“Yes it is,” I said, yawning as well. “Yes it is. Now come on, it’s getting late. We can watch a movie in bed before you go to sleep.”

We climbed up into the hovering mattress and I plopped the laptop on the blanket. Peter scrolled through whatever Youtube had to offer and snuggled into my lap as it started. I tiredly stroked my fingers through his hair, ready to fall asleep likely before he did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoo! Thanks for reading my long overdue fanfic! This chapter is slightly shorter than the others, not by much, but a little. Finally getting some dialogue with Alfred is the best thing to write. I love having him play 20 questions when he isn't being a moody vamp. I have some upcoming papers I need to work on for college stuff, so sorry in advance if next months update is a little late! It shouldn't be too long of a chapter to write. Five should be decently sized - but chapter six is what I'm looking forward to writing, and that one should be the longest by far.  
> As always, comments are welcome!


	4. Audience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not the best start of the morning a witch could have

My face was fully integrated into the pillow when I unfortunately woke up on another day of early classes. The sun was shining through the window as I forgot to shut the blinds last night, and my regret for overlooking that was strong. Why did I ever choose to go back to school? Perhaps the professors wouldn’t notice if I just slept in a bit longer; I pulled the blanket up further and huffed. 

“Your breath stinks,” Peter said, throwing his pillow atop my head and rolling over to lay on it. I prayed I suffocated or something. He wasn’t that heavy. 

“Like yours is any better,” I mumbled through a mouthful of fabric. I felt his weight ease off of me as he rolled back over. He sat up and stayed very still. I slid the pillow off of me and looked at him. His thick brows were taut as he stared off, his fingers twisted in the blankets. “Peter?”

“That man is outside,” he breathed. 

“What?” I lifted my head. We were on the second floor. 

Peter’s eyes watered. “He’s on the balcony, Arthur.”

I didn’t think I breathed once I turned on my back and sat up to look down at the glass door to the balcony. The sixty-whatever year old man stood on my balcony, in dirty jeans and a wife-beater that I never needed to witness, face all but pressed to the screen. His beady eyes boring into my soul. My immediate reaction to having the scariest man in the world on a balcony that was several feet away from his staring at my floating bed and blue, pointy eared brother was to fall off the bed and hit the floor knees first. My wand was on the table where I left it. 

“Nwodkcol eht moor,” I wheezed, pointing it at the windows and door. The curtains flew shut, the clicking of locks echoed through the flat as everything was secured and the room went dark. I laid there, knees pulsing, inhaling air uselessly as I shook. Peter started crying, crawling down the ladder of the bed and ran to me, falling into my lap to embrace me. I left my wand on the floor as I held him. My eyes stung with free falling tears. “Are you okay?”

“He knows,” he whispered. “He knows I’m a monster and we use magic and he’s gonna kill us, Arthur, he’s gonna burn us at -”

“Stop,” I shushed him, although the thoughts flew through my mind as well. “He could just be… ill. Some older people just wander away and get lost, understand?” 

 

We stayed there on the floor by the table until I had built up enough courage to get up and check the terrace. Peter gripped to my pajama bottoms as I moved the curtain slightly to peek through. The balcony was empty. My phone alarm buzzed to tell me to wake up; I clicked ignore. We ate breakfast.

“Peter, you’re coming with me today, all right?” I said, walking into the bathroom to try and pretend we were starting the day off normally. 

“To school?”

I came out with a toothbrush to pick out clothes for us both. “Uh-huh.” I did not want to stay in town, nor have Abby at risk from being with Peter. My knees burned with every step I took, but I’d be damned if I went to a clinic only to be charged for bruised knees. Peter got dressed and brushed his hair and teeth and stood by me, waiting. I raised a brow as I collected my schoolbag. 

“Aren’t you going to do it?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Make me normal.”

My shoulders slumped. I didn’t want to. Looking about the room, I pulled one of my newsboy caps from a shelf and plopped it on his head, lowering the brim to his brow. Peter’s cheap, but large headphones fit over his ears perfectly, and I plugged the end into my phone and gave it to him to listen to music. I tucked a scarf around his neck and firmed up the front. He blinked at me.

“You are normal,” I told him, before letting him climb on my back. My legs cried out in distress from the extra weight, but I held my tongue. He coiled his arms around my neck and rested his cheek on my shoulder. I could hear the music playing through the speakers. Leaving the apartment, I expected the man to be there, like a jump-scare in a horror film. He was not, and running down the stairwell seemed to take ages. I had it under control, I reminded myself. Everything was fine.

 

I knew I had missed Transcendency when we arrived while classes got out. Peter clung to my leg looking at all the older men and women walking around the campus; he had pushed up the hat’s brim and tugged at my trouser leg as he pointed at someone whose pointed ears arched out from behind her hair. I told him to not point at people, but was incredibly happy that most people ignored the school’s main rule. ‘To avoid lawsuits’ was what Ludwig had told me earlier in the week. On the way to see my professor, Peter started to attract a significant amount of attention. We had walked into the Transcendency room a few minutes before the next class started - I knew my maths started soon - and the students sitting at their desks went wild when they saw my changeling brother. As I talked with the professor about when I could make up the classwork and getting information about attending a class tonight to do a quick quiz, Peter wandered into the desk aisles, making conversation with the young adults who couldn’t stop smiling. I briefly saw a student shift their skin tone to a bright lilac while the professor wasn’t looking; Peter’s face made my heart melt. 

Sitting in Arithmancy wasn’t as entertaining for Peter. He was allowed inside as long as he remained quiet, and that was proving to be difficult for him when he had a rare day of being himself. The dark of the room had him anxiously looking at the blinds and back to me. I let him sit on my lap while I took notes, promising him tea and something to eat when the class ended. His head was nice to rest mine on. 

We were both a bit fidgety when we left the room. I held Peter’s hand as I walked to where I knew tea awaited us. I audibly cursed when I felt a hand touch my shoulder, turning around quickly, almost ready to punch the person. Kiku pulled back and held up his hands.

“I’m so sorry!” he said, bowing his head. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s…” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Sorry. Peter and I had a bad start to the morning; we’re a tad on edge. We were just getting a cuppa, would you like to join us?” I whispered a please so lightly I didn’t even hear it. 

Kiku looked to Peter, studying his face, and smiled. He brushed his fringe with his fingers and nodded. “I would be happy to,” he said. “And you, young sir, have been quite the popular rumor around the academy.” Peter blinked.

“Not too popular, I hope,” I told him as we started walking. 

He tilted his head. “I would never let anyone on campus jeopardies your security, Arthur. They know to be silent out there.” He lowered his voice so Peter wouldn’t hear. “I think they’re just excited to see someone blatantly giving administration a middle finger about their rules during the day. Even if he’s not a student.”

We collected our tea from the cafe. Peter liked his with a little cream and a side of toast with jam. I purchased a small wrap for the afternoon. Kiku had always packed a lunch for the days I’ve seen him, but he’d buy a tea with me anyway.

“My neighbor saw us this morning,” I was telling Kiku. “I don’t know if he was in his right mind, but he saw the charmed bed and Peter and I used magic in front of him…” I rubbed around my knees gingerly. “Do I report that?”

“Report that,” Kiku said as I asked. His eyes were wide; he was staring at the leaves in his tea. “I’ll tell the headmaster right away for you as well, but yes, if a human saw you and your brother in that situation, you can’t… you can’t risk that.” 

Peter munched on his toast, looking at the both of us. I sipped at my tea, thinking perhaps I should invest my time into developing time travel. Obviously tolerance was too much to ask for in society. I only knew one spell, and that one was the illusion spell to change Peter; maybe if I asked one of the professors of magic to look into it. I amused myself with bitter thoughts. Was I trying to foreshadow my future? Yes, I was.

Kiku already went right away into ensuring that the message got to the right people. I appreciated the effort he put into everything, and how he made sure to talk to me every day… I wondered if he did that for everyone, although with the amount of students in the academy, there would be no way he would have enough time. 

“Oh, Kiku,” I said while we stood up to collect our stuff. My history of magic class began shortly. “I don’t want to sound like a constant complainer, but I have to make up a quiz tonight, and was wondering if you were available to watch Peter while I took it. It shouldn’t be too long, but I don’t want to infringe on your evening if you have something planned.”

“Consider my schedule wide open,” he replied, giving a sincere smile. “I was just going to paint for a while. Peter is welcome to join me.”

I smiled, squeezing my brother’s shoulders. “He’d love that, thank you so much.”

History of magic included some literature and pop culture, much to the amusement of Peter, whose mood had kept shifting throughout the day. The professor understood that the discussion of any witch hunting was unneeded due to the recent events, and the witches, fae, and other students in the class agreed wholeheartedly. The room was set up in a circle - something to encourage the students to talk more rather than just get lectured at. The professor kept the door locked, and publically announced her oracle background as she thought it was amusing she taught history, but also because she detested the academy’s board policy. She sat atop the desks and was so into her lesson that it sounded like she lived them. My notes looked like a young adult novel script. When class ended, she waved from her desk and told us all to make good decisions over the weekend. Something I learned would become a Friday regular tradition of hers. 

My brother was already beginning to get grumpy by the time I handed him over to Kiku while the sun was setting outside. The kid needed a nap, and honestly, I felt that; we all needed a nap. The arrival of different students did catch his attention, but Kiku knew they shouldn’t be out too long per my request and they retreated inside to where I learned an art wing was established. It was nice to know there was a free space for me to steal drawing paper from; doodling and sketching people were old hobbies of mine that perhaps needed to make a comeback. 

The night class of Transcendency had a different feel to it than the one this morning. I sat in the back to work on the quiz, but the nocturnal students were so damn interesting, I found myself eavesdropping whenever I could. The professor lectured about magic uses in the past of transcendence and how badly they ended - of the user disappearing or causing magical damage. I noticed most of teaching was around defense and control, rather than harnessing and replicating that we did in the day. I circled some multiple choice answers and moved onto the short answer questions. They started talking about Anti-magic, and it was extremely difficult to write answers to this quiz while they discussed detection of magic and supernatural beings. I’m not quite sure what I ended up writing, but I quietly stood up and shuffled around the classroom, leaving the paper in the professor’s drop box. 

 

Pulling my brother through the hallways while he complained about being tired was one of the last things I wished to be doing. Some students hanging in the hallways gave us looks as he stamped his feet while trying to fight my grip around his wrist. My knees were starting to hurt again when I bent it, and dragging Peter down the stairwell and outside into the night where he shouted about the dark was not easing any stress. 

“Peter, please, I know. Just lower your voice. You can eat something and sleep when we get home!” I told him in my calmest voice with a touch of exhaustion. 

He cried back something incoherent and yanked at my sleeve. I saw the last bus pull up to the stop from the distance. A long distance.

“Peter!”

To say all the hope and energy drained from my body when the bus pulled away just yards before we got to the stop would be an understatement. I sat on the bench for a moment, just staring at Peter - whose nose was purple from sniffling so much, and eyes red rimmed and watery. I couldn’t blame him. Six year olds were… well, six. The air was cooling minute by minute, and I looked down the road in the direction of the city. It would be a long walk. 

I sighed, rubbing my knee. “C’mon Peter, I’ll carry you on my back, okay? You can nap on the way.” I moved my school bag to my other shoulder, ready to bare the weight of my brother for over an hour. 

“Arthur?”

The voice came from the path to the academy campus, and it sounded terribly confused. I peered over my shoulder, surprised to see Alfred standing there - although I really shouldn’t have been - with his hands in his jean pockets and backpack hanging by one strap over his shoulder. The lamp light by the bench cast a glare over the lense of his glasses. 

“I didn’t know you had fright classes,” he said, cocking his head.

“Fright?”

“Friday night,” he replied. “I assumed you were more of a day class student.”

I cleared my throat, turning around to actually face him. Peter gripped my neck. “I had to make up some work I missed this morning.”

He gasped. “Arthur Kirkland missing classwork? The humanity.”

“Hey, I would have made it if there wasn’t an emergency at home!” I retorted, and the grin on his face disappeared.

“Emergency? Are you alright?” I saw his nose twitch and he took a step forward before stopping altogether. “You’re bleeding,” he said, drawing his hand to his nose. 

I looked down at myself, examining for any stain of blood that I perhaps didn’t notice; not that I felt any blood on me. 

“It’s a bruise,” he exclaimed, letting his hand fall. “But it’s large. Did you hit something?”

“How do you know…?” I asked, looking at my knees. 

Alfred shrugged. “Blood is… potent. Easy to pinpoint. But, ah, I definitely recommend you ice that and keep your weight off… not that carrying - is that your brother? - will help.” 

Peter tiredly raised his head from my shoulder. “We got attacked,” he said.” I immediately shook my head as Alfred’s expression changed to alarm.

“No!, No, we did not. We did not get attacked, it was just a misunderstanding,” I told them both. “But it’s fine, I can handle it. Nothing to worry about… anyway, um, Alfred, um, you’re getting out early… for a nocturnal student, that is.”

He approached us calmly, though his brows were still close knit, and pulled out his phone. The light lit up the bus stop area. 

“I only have one class on Fridays. I usually walk around for a bit before I head home or out with friends. I do have some work to do, so I probably won’t be out too long,” he spoke as he typed quickly on the phone. He perked up a second later. “Actually, uh, it’s a nice coincidence you’re out here abandoned.”

I deadpanned at the questionable joke.

He padded his pockets with his free hand - from his jacket pockets, to his backpack, and the pockets on his ass - stupidly biting his lip as he searched. He pulled a dark piece of coated paper and held it out to me. I looked at it in his hand, and back to him as I motioned that my hands were a bit preoccupied. He smiled and I felt a short breath on my face as he suppressed a chuckle. Suddenly, Alfred was beside me, placing the paper into my bag. 

“It’s an invitation. One of my pals is hosting a party with his fraternity on Sunday. Food, drinks, music ‘n stuff. People being themselves, so you can feel satisfied knowing what some students look like,” he said, sticking his tongue out. I huffed. “It would be cool if you can make it.”

His smile was so damn good looking? He didn’t stand up straight until after I had stared at him for a whole minute before mumbling some “That sounds nice, I’ll think about it” nonsense. I inhaled sharply, looking around the road once more. “I do have to get going though, it’s getting very late.”

“Oh,” Alfred quipped. “I already called you a Pinion.”

“A what?”

“It’s like Uber or Lyft… but for the school. Some upperclassmen run it,” he said, showing his phone to me. A car was on its way to the stop where we stood. “Like I said, you shouldn’t be walking with your knee inwardly bleeding like that. Plus, it’s late. And you probably live far away. Carrying your changeling brother.”

I lowered my voice. “How did you know he was a changeling?”

He lowered the phone. “I don’t know, I guess he smells like a fairy, but you’re not. I’m pretty good with lucky guesses, Francis will attest to that,” he mused.   
The car pulled up just moments later, and the front window rolled down as Alfred walked over to the driver. I quietly followed behind him. 

“Hey Lovino,” Alfred said, resting his hand on the top of the car. “How’s the restaurant?”

“Waiting for the car back, idiot.” The deep Italian accent caught me off guard. “There a reason why you requested me?” 

“The bus my friend here missed goes into the part of town you’re usually at. I figured you’d be the easiest call. Plus Antonio said to always call for you because he loves you and wants you to get out more.”

“Stupid bastard… there’s a shit-storm coming for him, let him know that,” the driver, Lovino, replied. “But si, I guess I can drive your man home. Usual charges though.”

Alfred nodded. “Didn’t expect otherwise, dude.” He opened the back door for me.

“I don’t have a lot of money on me,” I told Alfred as I put Peter in the car. 

“Don’t worry about it; it isn’t a lot, you’ll be okay. Have a good night, Artie, I hope I see ya on Sunday!” He replied, shutting the door as soon as I sat on the seat. He patted the hood and Lovino returned the gesture with a very different one out the window as he rolled it back up. 

He glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “You gonna give me your address or am I just going to drive you to my place?”

I gave him my address and thanked him generously, peeking back to where we left to see that Alfred was nowhere in sight. Peter settled himself on my lap; I rubbed my hand over his hair, fluffing it gently. The drive was a lot shorter than the bus was, but long enough that I was thankful that I was spared from walking the way. Lovino rolled up to the front of my apartment building. I looked up at the terrace of my neighbors and over to mine. They were all empty. Lovino unlocked the car door and sat back.

“You’re not asleep are you?” 

I went through my bag. “No, I’m not. How much do I owe you?”

“Are you joking?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Lovino stared at me through the mirror. “Alfred already paid for it. You’re set to go… so… go.”

I blinked, slowly putting my empty wallet back into my bag. I only had two conversations with Alfred and he was already paying for car rides like we were friends for ages. “Can I ask how much the ride was?” I said, opening the car door. “For future reference, that is.”

He sighed, clicking through his phone that sat by the radio. “Like forty dollars.”

Forty fucking dollars I owed this prick. 

“Ah, well, thank you very much for driving us.”

“Yeah, get out of my car now, ciao!” 

Holding Peter in my arms, I shifted out of the vehicle and shut the door. Lovino drove away as soon as I stepped onto the sidewalk. The character of students at the academy was astounding. My heart pounded as I walked up the stairs to my floor, relieved when the hallway was empty and I safely got Peter and myself into the room. I rested him on the couch and settled down on the floor next to him, taking off my shoes and rolling down my trousers so I could look at my knees for the first time today. Alfred was right about the bruise, and it stretched from my knee caps down to my shin - red along the edges and dark blue in the center. My left seemed worse off compared to the right - likely because I fell on it first, facing the kitchen area. I scooted over to the fridge and pulled ice cooler I would normally use to keep Peter’s packed lunches cold and wrapped it in paper towel before taking turns between knees. I realized I never had anything for dinner, and had no idea if Peter did - but neither of us seemed awake enough to make anything. I rested my head against the wall, looking around the dimly lit apartment room; the blinds were closed, still tied together. I probably wouldn’t open them for a while. 

I leaned over to my bag, grabbing the dark paper that Alfred slid into the pocket. It was a glossy finish, with white Greek letters spelling the Kappa Alpha Tau name of the fraternity. The address was listed - somewhere I would have to look up - and the time: which was at night. I would have time to work in the morning then, I thought to myself. The instructions in small print at the bottom requested guests bring the invite as proof of welcome. I set the invite on my fridge with a small magnet. I would have all day tomorrow to think about it. 

Getting up hurt. Getting Peter into the levitated bed hurt. Getting ready to sleep just damn well hurt. Burying my face back into my pillow was the best part of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading! I finished up this chapter late tonight in the UK, so I figured I'd upload a few days early so I can focus on the essays I need to write before next weekend. Sorry nothing super exciting happened in this chapter! Sometimes slow burns just need some filler. I personally can't wait until Alfred and Arthur develop more of a friendship later on. Knowing how things are going to happen is actually killing me. Next chapter should be up around American Thanksgiving after I get back from France! It'll likely be the shortest chapter unless I throw in some conversations for background info. We'll see. Chapter 6 should be way longer to make up for it! xoxo


	5. Some Resolve

“Oh, good morning, Arthur - how are you?” 

“Morning, Mrs. Harris, I’m terribly sorry to call you at this hour.” 

“It’s nothing, I’m just having some tea while I let Teddy out; he’s such a rambunctious pup.” 

I rolled over in my bed, phone resting atop my cheek while I held Peter; he was warm, as always. 

“What can I help you with, dear?” she asked after a moment. 

Quickly, I thought about the best, most reasonable excuse. “I’m afraid I can’t make it to work today; some trouble came up and I need to be with my little brother. But I can work as long as you’ll need me tomorrow!” I kept my voice low. Peter shifted under the blankets. 

Mrs. Harris, the sixty-seven year old woman who owned the flower shop, the gem of this damn town, replied, “Oh sweetie, don’t you worry about a thing. Come in whenever you can. I’ll be sure to leave some cookies for you tomorrow then, and you can bring some to your brother of course. I hope everything gets better for you, honey.” 

I smiled. “Thank you very much, Mrs. Harris. Thank you, I hope so too.” 

“See you tomorrow.” 

“Cheers.” Sliding the phone off my face, I tapped the end call button and let the device fall shortly to the mattress by my head. I hadn’t touched the blinds since the other day. Not that I was afraid to open them, but, well, I was. All my dreams from the night were of that moment; the deadpan eyes, the utter fear in Peter’s whisper… I moved my legs up slightly, wincing at how stiff my knees felt - like I was bending leather wrapped rubber. 

I pulled one leg out from under the sheets. The skin was dyed a deep purple, tapering off to pinks and reds and blues like a galaxy exploded from my knee. The spot where I had landed could pass as a black hole, and was the most painful to touch. I gently moved it back under the blankets, quietly timing my breathing. I could go back to sleep. It was still early. Peter hugged his pillow tightly, intent on not leaving the bed anytime soon. I hadn’t let him have more than a day without the spell to make him appear human, and it was unusual to see him as he was, but not unwelcome. His stomach made soft gurgling noises, which reminded me of our lack of dinner the other night. I did have some groceries in the fridge, I thought as I glanced over at the kitchen in the corner. 

Getting down from the bed was a work out. The uncomfortable feeling of moving my legs down the ladder without seeing them made me anxious to when the floor would meet my feet. Standing up straight was a no. I double checked and confirmed it. My lungs begged for oxygen with every awkward step I made whilst crab-walking to the kitchen; I tried my hardest to not audibly wince and wake Peter up before I had something for him to eat. The fridge had milk, and the pantry had cereal. Excellent. I took two bowls from a cabinet and poured the sugary flakes into both and added milk to one, then walloped a spoon in. There: magic. 

I sat on the sofa with a plastic bag of ice on top of my knees and poked open my computer with my free hand. The academy had emailed me with a big fat exclamation point under the urgent category. Kiku had gone through on his word. A representative of the Ardeat security team would visit the premises later in the day to investigate the matter and “handle the situation” if necessary. I chewed lightly on the cereal, quietly deciding if I dared to look at the news or if I should just go onto Youtube and watch ridiculous Buzzfeed videos until Peter woke up. 

I must’ve dozed off while watching Worth It videos because Peter’s cereal munching was ruthless. He sat on the arm of the couch by my head, bowl in hand, watching the computer screen intently. I blinked drearily. He slid down onto my face once he finished. 

“Morning,” he said, arse fully on the side of my head. “You aren’t at work.” 

“Yes, great observation there,” I replied through whatever space I was granted. “We’re spending a Saturday indoors. We can make potions if you’d like. I think Abby would appreciate some.” 

Peter rolled off my face, quickly putting his bowl in the sink. “Can we? It’s been ages since I’ve done any potions with you! Dylan never wanted to do any with me when it was just us at home.” 

Dylan was the third oldest in the family; only older than myself by a year and a few months. He was home the most out of my brothers - the times he wasn’t he was busy in the west raising dragons or confiding in nature. His magic wasn’t quite potion centered, but Peter would see him more often than not - and after one explosion… well… Dylan agreed with our father that he would leave the potion work to myself and Mum. 

“Peter, Dylan is shite at potions; you know this.” 

“He could have brought me a dragon… or a sheep then.” 

“Yes, how dare he forget to bring you a magical fire breathing beast from the coast. Absolutely ludicrous,” I exclaimed, grabbing my phone from the table. Peter crossed his arms and pouted. “I think Mum would have had a heart attack; she hates when he’s away, and hates it more when he brings things back. Remember when Allistor lost that damn unicorn in the borders?” 

“I think I was too young to remember.” 

“Dylan released a fae dragon, tiny little thing - like a lizard - to go find it, and instead it flew into a town and scared the citizens half to death. Dad was going to snap his wand right there and then, I could swear it. But Mum was too afraid that Dylan would leave again, and convinced him that the people in the town couldn’t see the thing unless they were magic users as well, so Dylan got off the hook.” 

“What happened to the unicorn?” 

I opened my mouth, paused, and closed it. The ordeal happened years ago, but I couldn’t recall what had happened. “I… I’m not sure, Peter. I don’t think anyone found it. Allistor could have it back at his place, but if he does, he didn’t bother telling anyone.” 

“I want to see a unicorn,” Peter said, walking back over to the couch to look at the bruises on my legs. “Maybe we can make a healing potion? Can we do that?” 

I sat up, wincing slightly. “If we have the ingredients, I don’t see why not.” I glanced at him. “Though if I consume it and die, I’ll warn you, I haven’t written my will yet and I make you no guarantee that you will inherit our vast fortune we have here.” 

Peter rolled his eyes in that way only six year olds did. He went around the room and pulled out the small mortar and pestle from a shelf, along with the flowers and herbs I pointed out to him from the comfort of the sofa. We settled down with some vials and cups of water and went to work. 

My phone buzzed with a text from Kiku not too long after. Peter was grinding the herbs in the mortar so ferociously, I let him be and went to look at the phone. 

_“I have homework, tea, and company to offer if you need it.”_

Then a follow up message came through. 

_“The homework is not for you. It is a leech; it’ll be coming anyway, unfortunately.”_

I chuckled to myself, tapping away on the keyboard. 

_“Don’t fret, I also have homework to do. Company would be nice, thanks,”_ I typed. 

He arrived with his school bag over his shoulder and two paper bags from a grocery store in either hand. Peter answered the door faster than I could even get up from my spot on the floor. Kiku bowed his head politely at Peter and looked my way with a smile before stepping inside the apartment and closing the door behind him. He brought an assortment of things with him - much more than the tea he offered. Peter and I both followed him to the corner kitchen as he laid out the vegetables and sauces as well as a pre-made snack he called Tamagoyaki. My young brother took one piece and plopped it into his mouth and there went any of my cooking credibility in his eyes. 

“It’s just made out of egg,” Kiku told me. “You sweeten it with a rice wine and sugar and it’s simply delicious.” 

“I’m going to have to take notes,” I replied, wincing as I took weight off one leg to lean on the counter. “You didn’t have to do all this.” 

“Nobody has to do anything,” he said, going through my kitchen drawers to look for things he needed. “You’re chasing two hares, I’m just helping with the one that I am able to catch. I enjoy cooking, don’t worry about it. You can keep being with your brother, Arthur, it looks like you have quite the project set up.” 

I looked back at the bottles we filled with two elixirs. “Ah, yes, I need to give those to a friend. She’s been watching Peter while I’m in classes. I can’t really afford to pay for the amount she does for me, so we compromised.” 

“Are potions difficult to make?” Kiku asked, throwing some chopped up vegetables into a pan with noodles already sizzling in the sauce. 

I shrugged. “Not if you have all the right things and know how the texture is suppose to end up as. Anyone could actually make those two right there; they aren’t charmed or anything. Those types could get a bit… dangerous, I guess. Easy to make a small mistake and then all of a sudden you’ve consumed poison!” I laughed half-heartedly. It’s happened a few times to people I’ve seen take them. Other witches are quite hesitant to take any magic elixir that they didn’t make themselves or did see get made. 

I took a bite of the Tamagoyaki and sighed. It was really good. 

“Did someone come by yet to check out your neighbor?” he asked, letting the dish simmer. 

I shook my head. “Not yet. Though it’s only the afternoon.” 

Kiku frowned, looking towards the wall I shared with a very disturbing man and his family. Or at least I assumed it was his family; I could hear a woman shouting quite often on a weekly basis. Their apartment couldn’t be that much larger than mine - a studio - but I hadn’t seen any other rooms in the building besides this one. Turning around to stir the food around a bit, Kiku’s gaze shifted towards the refrigerator. I kept some photographs on there, as well as any lists I write up, but his eyes were set on the glossy invitation to the party tomorrow night. 

I fiddled my thumbs. “What is your opinion on the nocturnal students, Kiku?” I asked, looking from him to the invite. “If that’s okay to ask, I mean.” 

He turned off the stove top and set the pan aside from the burner; he would glance to his left when he thought. “Personality wise? They’re just like any other student, I suppose,” he started, folding his hands on the counter. “What they teach them in their classes are different simply because of their standing - that is, if a human observed one of the nocturnal students in the dead of night, something about them would feel off. Nocturnals usually have a harder time disguising their natural state, and humans are mostly scared of the myths and stories they hear about creatures in the dark. The classes do focus a lot on defending, or how not to cause trouble in the first place. So I believe they are a bit more rambunctious and free spirited on the academy grounds because they are safe there - and don’t have to worry a lot about hunters or the like. You and I, as well as many daytime students, act just like normal human students do. We don’t have to hold back as much.” He paused, nodding his head towards my neighbor’s side of the wall. “Well, most of the time.” 

I nibbled on my nail. 

“You’re debating going to this party?” Kiku exclaimed, although I debated if he meant it as a question or a statement. “Who gave it to you?” 

“This student from my chem class, Alfred,” I replied, shifting my weight to the other leg. “We just happened upon each other last night by chance.” 

It took a moment before I noticed Kiku’s widened smirk. It sort of scared me. 

“You should go,” he stated matter-of-factly before turning once more to put the food onto separate plates. “Just like that?” 

He slid me one, and Peter came back from the sofa to grab a plate to bring back to his internet hobbies. “The fraternity is run by a very good... friend of mine. He’s often very considerate with whom he trusts with extra invitations.” Kiku took out a pair of chopsticks and started digging into the meal he made for us. After a second, he cleared his throat, glancing away. “Plus if it is the Alfred I am thinking of that gave you that invitation, then you’re sure to have a great time. He’s a good man… excellent at games.” 

I spun the noodles around my fork before taking a bite of the dish. Again, amazing, what the hell? I glared at the invite for a moment more. “But what do I wear?” 

Kiku shrugged. “Clothes, I think.” 

“You’re so helpful.” 

Another hour passed by and we all eventually moved into the middle of the room, writing on our homework and making small talk whenever we reached a question we were procrastinating to answer. I drew the celtic rune symbols on a side piece of paper with their corresponding letter as a cheat sheet for answering questions for my Ancient Runes class. Kiku had his books on his lap as he squinted at the words running up and down the page. I asked what class it was. 

“Illusions,” he said, “and Transformations.” He glanced up from his book and smiled at whatever expression I was making on my face. “Good luck trying to narrow that one down.” 

I looked back to my paper and scoffed. “You sound like Alfred.” 

A loud buzz sounded off in the room that started all of us. The apartment phone sat next to the door, and after a moment, buzzed again. I painfully got to my feet and walked over to the machine, lifting the phone to my ear. 

“Hello?” I said. 

“Good evening, Mr. Kirkland, it’s Ludwig. I’m here to investigate your report on your neighbor. I apologize for my tardiness, I was caught up with some things this afternoon.” Ludwig spoke firmly, audibly trying to restrain something. 

“Ciao, Arthur!” I heard another voice sing in the background. 

“Ah, and Feliciano is here as well,” Ludwig said, “If you could let us in, that would be very appreciated.” 

“Of course,” I replied, clicking the black button next to the phone that would open the main door to the building. “I’m just a few floors up…” 

“Thank you, we’ll be right there.” 

I hung up the phone and looked over at Kiku, who had stood back up during our conversation and walked over to the kitchen to put our snacking plates away in the sink. Rubbing my thumb to my index finger, I waited by the door until a firm knock rattled the frame. Ludwig and Feli stood side-by-side; Ludwig holding a clipboard under his arm and a pencil behind his ear. Feli was quick to walk into the apartment to throw his arms around my shoulders. 

“We’re here to rescue you!” he said, pressing his cheeks to mine in succession. His gaze immediately shifted to Kiku in the kitchen. “Kiku!” he gasped, gliding over to throw himself into a hug that Kiku clearly mentally prepared for. 

“Nice to see you too,” he replied, patting the Italian’s back. 

I almost missed the small smile that passed Ludwig’s face before he cleared his throat and turned his attention back to me. We discussed the incident that happened the other day, like what exactly the man could have seen, the possible reasonings he could have for thinking Peter or myself were anything but regular humans; I led him to the small balcony where he pulled back the blinds for the first time today and looked outside at the distance between the terraces. He scribbled a lot down on that clipboard; Feliciano was close behind him, whispering some things as he hopped around the outdoor space. I played with the rim of my shirt, simply watching until something happened. Kiku rested his hand on my shoulder. It wasn’t until Ludwig told us he would be right back that my anxiety rose more. He and Feli exited my apartment and walked over to my neighbor’s. I heard the knocking of the door, and then the door open. I couldn’t hear any conversation, and I was far too nervous to look out into the hallway, but Kiku was calm and Peter was distracted, so I tried my best to relax. Everything was quiet for what seemed like a full twenty minutes before I heard a door slam and Ludwig came back, placing the pencil curtly behind his ear. 

“Well, that was something,” he said while Feliciano bounced back into the view of the door. “He shouldn’t be much of a problem for you for quite some time.” Kiku collected his things into his bag and walked over to everyone else. “That’s good to hear. Thank you, Ludwig, for responding to this quickly. And you too, Feli,” he said. 

“Yes, thank you very much,” I agreed. “Can I ask… what happened in there?” 

Feliciano smiled. “Best you didn’t,” he said, eyes glinting. 

I blinked. Kiku walked into the hallway with them and turned to me, adjusting his school bag strap. “There is some leftovers for you and your brother to have when you get hungry tonight, Arthur.” He paused. “And do go to that party. You may find it to be rather enlightening.” 

Ludwig looked at Kiku over to me. “You may run into my brother; if you do, please tell him to come back home.” 

“Ah, sure, I’ll keep an eye out…” I replied, not really sure how I was suppose to find him. “Again, thanks - to all of you.” 

“One more thing,” Ludwig interrupted. “Next time, please use the panic button on your keychain. It really does help.” 

Right. Yes, that thing. I nodded. “Of course.” 

All three of them politely waved as they went down the stairs. I promptly closed the door and rested my forehead on the cool wood. It was quiet, save for a game Peter was playing on the laptop, and the pounding of my heart in my ears. Letting out a long, strenuous sigh, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket, face still on the door. I dialed a number and pressed the phone to my ear. 

“Hey Abby, sorry for the call. I was wondering if you could do me another big favor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the lateness of this short chapter!! I've been very busy with my trip to France and finishing up my classes. I promise you the next chapter will be up this month as well - so you don't have to wait as long. Much of this chapter was exposition, because, you know, slow burns have that. I am also suffering, I just want the OTP to make out already... and they've only seen each other three times so far. 
> 
> Again, thank you all who have been reading along and supporting this. It's the reviews and comments that really get me by - and I am determined to finish what I've started - meaning that I won't be that person who just abandons a long fic halfway through. That is a killer. Heck, even when I graduate in a year and a half, I'll still likely be working on this. Even if I work for the dang Pentagon, I'll still be working on this. If with you till the end of the line.
> 
> Also, have fun trying to guess what supernatural creature everyone is. Of course some are a given, and some will become more obvious later on, whilst others will blatantly give theirs away... and other will be a damn mystery. Reading about the lore for each creature has been very entertaining. I'm using mythological creatures from all types of cultures.


	6. Breaking Spades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, Arthur swears a lot when he's drunk and competitive.

The flower shop was called _Rain_ , which was exactly how it was outside as I tied the linen apron around my waist. It would come and go as the minutes rolled by. I put a spray bottle, sheers, and my wand into the pockets that came attached and replaced my loafers with the rubber boots left by the door for when I eventually would have to go outside to care for the outdoor garden that was surely going to be muddy by the end of the day if I didn’t put a cover over it. Summer flowers were still in season; it hadn’t been cool long enough for them to die, nor for Mrs. Harris to tell her small staff to switch it over to autumn blooms. Some of the colors were beginning to fade though, and Asters always sold better when their colors were bold and bright. I tapped the tip of my wand to the flower bed and dragged it up the stem to the petals. The muted lavender shade shifted to a striking purple alongside the magentas and whites of the bunch. I proceeded to spray them with the water from the bottle. It had been a few days since I had done so - since not every flower and plant needed to be watered so regularly. 

Most summer blooms are daisy-like, so it was important they were as spritely as possible to get them sold before they would die or go out of season. We also sold Yarrows in their luminescent yellow clusters. The tallest pot grew to two feet tall already. They are a carefree flower, and look great next to a blue Catmint, which is why I put them together in the corner front of the shop. There was once a young lady walking her cat and it almost devoured the plant when I had them outside; cats really like those hardcore drugs. 

The small succulent plants we kept in the center tables of the shop were quite popular with high school and college aged students. We consistently keep them on sale so they sell out fast. I always enjoy naming them. Achilles and Patroclus were two cacti who were terribly engrossed with each other; they leaned against one another with such balance, I was afraid if I tried to make them grow straight then they would break. So I let them be. Icarus was a wide bloomer and tilted so much towards the sun when it poked through the front windows, he was practically sideways. Icarus was like this when I was first hired and has remained an inside joke between myself and the other two workers because no one knew who just forgot to turn him in the first place. 

We didn’t just sell plants either. Birdhouses as well as birdbaths were set up on display around the shop. When I wasn’t busy, I would start painting a new one with non toxic paints for the season; but most of the time we left the wood alone since parents often bought them for their kids to paint. The birdbaths were enchanting to look at. Mrs. Harris’ nephew would come in every now and then with a new one that he carved up for her. They were more popular during the spring, I was told, but I didn’t mind them sitting around - floating lily pads atop of the water was entertainment during the slow days. 

After I sprayed the flowers and plants that needed some tender, loving care, I sat down on the spinning stool behind the counter and sucked in a long needed breath. It was noon, and I promised I could stay into the late afternoon. Peter wanted to sleep in more - and with Ludwig saying that we were safe - I left my six year old brother in bed when I left for ten o’clock. Was that smart? Probably not, but my mum left me alone at a young age too and I grew up all right. Peter wouldn’t leave the apartment anyway with himself looking so much like a changeling; he had a cheap mobile phone in case he needed to call me. I scribbled on a notepad, thinking about the party tonight. Seeing some people may be a good idea and give me some closure with knowing what other chimera were at the academy during the night. Plus if those four in my chemistry lab knew I was a witch, it would only be fair. 

I twirled the pen in my hand, dotting the paper with small circles. The party time was listed from 8pm until 3am, although if my American pop culture knowledge was correct, people would never arrive on time. Which allowed me ample opportunity to go home to nap, shower, and change before dropping Peter off at Abby’s for the night and heading out to find this house. It was technically on the academy grounds, I noted. Behind the school, there was a road that led into a wide neighborhood surrounded by forests and the lake. Many of the students who did not have a home nearby, nor could commute, lived there, although the pricing of the houses were ridiculous. 

The bell above the door rang as an elderly man slowly walked in. He was dressed very nicely, a tweed jacket with a bright red, plaid bow tie; his umbrella curved around his forearm as he took the hat off his head. It took a moment for his eyes to turn about the room and spot me behind the counter. 

“Ah, hello there,” he said, tucking his hat under his arm carefully. He must have been mid seventies at least. “I was wondering if you could help me find something special for my wife.” 

I put the pen down and smoothed out my apron as I slid off the stool. “Of course,” I replied, walking over to him. He was slightly shorter than me, but I suppose old age did that to folks. “Do you know what kind of flowers she likes?” 

His hands trembled lightly - unconsciously - as he looked at the plants. “Well, she used to love all of them. We had a lovely garden in Pennsylvania before we moved up here to be closer to family. But, ah, you see, her eyesight isn’t what it used to be, but she loves flowers so much. I thought, maybe, that a plant that smells nice would be, well, something she may like... She can still smell.” 

I mentally forced myself not to act on my instinct to touch my chest in sympathy. “Well you have come to the right place,” I said, nodding my head vigorously. I made my way to the hanging potted plants to the front of the store. “A long lasting bloom is the Sweet Alyssum. It’s very low maintenance, only needs a small bit of water regularly, and you can leave it in the sun for as long as you’d like.” I picked the light pot off the hook and twirled it carefully in front of the man. “It’ll last through fall until Christmas if it’s taken care of. And it is one of the most fragrant flowers in season right now.” 

He gently leaned to smell the white bunches and smiled. “She will love these. What’s the name again?” He took out a small piece of paper and a pencil from his jacket pocket. “She’ll want to know.” 

I placed the pot on the counter. “Sweet Alyssum, but these are nicknamed Snow Crystals.” 

“Snow Crystals,” he repeated, intently writing it down in small but neat script. “Thank you, young man.” 

He paid for them in cash and left the shop, holding them by his chest like a child, umbrella above them. I picked up my pen once again and nibbled on the tip. Maybe I would have the great sense of fashion that man had when I reached that age. I hoped so. 

 

Peter was on the floor when I returned to the apartment. An assortment of voodoo dolls lay scattered around him as he poked needles into the one he was currently holding. I put my bag on the ground next to the sofa. 

“Who are you torturing today?” I asked, casually falling over the arm of the couch to lounge on the cushions. He turned to look at me, the changeling details of his face more prominent than I have ever seen them before. It had been, what, roughly three days since I had cast the illusion spell on him? Sure it was the longest he’s been without the suppression of his fae quirks, but nothing awful had happened like they do in stories about other changelings. 

Peter shrugged, laying it back on the floor. “How was work?” 

“It was fine,” I replied, closing my eyes. “Didn’t feel very long so that’s nice.” 

He was quiet again, probably going back to playing with the dolls. They weren’t active, so there was no harm in any of it. Abby only made them for fun; they sold well even as decorations or to those “aesthetic buyers.” 

I slept until the sun began to set, darkening the room with longer shadows. I heard Peter walk to click the lights on around me. My nap felt like twenty minutes, but my word against the sun’s was miniscule. Numb static occupied the arm I fell asleep on, and I slapped it haphazardly against the arm of the couch before I felt it revive and I could bend my fingers without much effort. I pat Peter’s head on my way to the bathroom, getting the shower started as I stripped the soil smelling work clothes I was wearing. Did I want to smell like sage or oranges, I thought, holding the shampoo bottles in either hand. Did I care? 

Sort of. 

It was a bit unnerving and awkwardly rude to learn that possibly every single student in my night class could smell me; that’s just… not something you tell a person. I soaped twice for good measure. Peter was staring at me when I came out of the bathroom, voodoo dolls discarded into their box once more. Still in a towel - I was practically walked to the kitchen to do something about dinner. We had some canned soups and beans, as well as bread and some leftover cereal. 

“Beans on toast?” I asked, figuring Peter would be fed again when he got to Abby’s. I plopped the bread in the toaster and heated up the beans in the microwave. 

Twenty minutes passed by while I looked blankly at my wardrobe. What did a person wear to a damn frat party? I picked the darkest jeans I owned - because Peter told me any lighter wasn’t cool enough - and sifted through my t-shirts. My favorite was one I had for the longest time; it was a fitting black shirt with almost holographic designs of the alchemical planetary symbols and their metals. It was a couple years old, but it wasn’t like I had grown much. I pulled it over my head and took my old leather jacket from the closet. 

“Weren’t you in a band when you got that?” Peter asked from the couch, packing his backpack for the night. 

“We don’t speak of the dark ages, Peter,” I replied, shoving my feet into my shoes. I took a second glance in the mirror and fluffed my hair, then flattened it. It was uncontrollable. I took my wand from the table and gently rolled it between my fingers, looking at my little brother. The feeling in my chest was awful, but it had been some time and it was far easier to protect him this way. “I love you, Peter, have a good time with Abby, okay?” I said to him as his back faced me. 

“Okay. I love you too.” 

I flicked my wrist as quickly as I could in the symbol of the spell before I shoved my wand inside my jacket and turned around, too petty not to watch my brother lose all his light. I hastened to put the potions we made into his bag and double checked he would have everything he needed. Wiping my eyes, I took his coat from the hanger and helped to pull his arms through. I was pensive, but it would be like any other time walking my brother to Abby’s. 

 

The weather outside was nice; an unusually warm night for autumn temperatures. I checked the invitation to make sure the address in my phone was correct. I walked down a path I hadn’t gone down before around the academy. More lanterns were planted into the grass here as houses began to poke through the trees. The neighborhood looked pleasant with the architecture; some houses had fraternity symbols engraved onto their doors, or flags gently fluttering on a pole in the front. Not many people seemed to be home in the first street of houses I walked by. 

I clutched my wand as a group of students rushed by me from behind, running ahead to the most lit up house in the corner of the second street. Music resonated down the road, with lanterns hanging from the trees, and people chatting idly outside. The KAT letters were etched delicately into the marble entry of the Greek revival home. I became consciously aware that some people in the front garden really did look like they came from another world as I was told. They shared cigarettes, drinks, and stories by the table that was set out on the grass. Walking up the few steps of the elongated porch to the front door - which was propped open with a small stone statue of a cat - the foyer was ginormous. I felt like I should be attending a ball here, not a frat party. Students casually brisked by with green skin, glowing eyes, horns, scales, and tails of different lengths - all carrying their phones and a cup, talking like there wasn’t a care in the world. I looked at their outfits; I was all right, I thought. 

“Oh hello,” someone said to me, walking from the arch to what seemed like the kitchen. “You look lost. Just arrived?” He wore a plain white t-shirt, half tucked into his jeans. A girl ran by, arms full of flower crowns, a plopped one on top of his lengthy brown hair, already donning the ears of a cat. He appeared unfazed. 

I stared at them for a moment. I understood. 

“Yes, I’m Arthur, hi,” I replied, suddenly remembering the information on the invite. I took the paper out of my back pocket and handed it to the man. “Alfred… invited me?” I didn’t know what I was suppose to say. 

“Ah, Alfred,” he said monotonically. “He’s around here somewhere; I just talked to him about politics.” He took the black paper from me and nodded, shoving it into his pocket. “Feel free to go into any room with an open door. There are lint rollers all around the house in case my cats decide to, you know, acquaint themselves to your clothing.” Shifting away for a second, the host turned back, blinking incredulously. “Sorry, I’m Heracles, by the way.” 

He left to talk with other guests, picking up leftover rubbish along the way before a cat came to knock it off the tables. The pets seemed to be wearing color coded collars, some with bells, others with ribbons. They seemed to follow Heracles into any room he went into. Glancing around the foyer, there was a large, curving staircase that led to the second floor. You could see some of the rooms that couples darted in and out of - some in nothing but their underwear. I fiddled with the zipper of my jacket as I slowly meandered around the place, phone in my other hand so I didn’t look like a bloody idiot being alone. Least that American could do was greet me when I arrived. 

Not that he knew when or if I was arriving, but still. 

The kitchen had an abundance of different drinks on the counter, and the wine cooler seemed to be opening and closing nonstop. The mysterious gallon water cooler was open at the top; above it kneeled a young lady, proudly wearing her formal witch hat - short and rounded, she had decorated it with little black cats for the occasion. She was dumping whatever her sharp-toothed friend handed her into the punch as if she was concocting a potion. 

She looked down at me from the counter and pointed at the red drink, pouring some Balkan vodka in. “Want some?” 

I shook my head. “I think I would die,” I replied bluntly. 

“Probably.” She shrugged, smiling. 

An older student walked in and held her cup out to the death drink. Her arm was lined in silvery violet scales, but as most people seemed to be doing - appearing at least somewhat human was a safety precaution. Her hair was long, straight, and adorned with a black bow. I took a step to the side as her skirts took up a fair amount of space. 

The witch seemed bemused. “Nat, this is your fourth cup in an hour.” 

“Yes,” Nat replied, holding her cup out once more. The atmosphere darkened. I shifted a bit further away. I grabbed a small cup of cider and scooted towards the door. I was sure the ladies could handle it. 

The room next to the kitchen was the dining room, where it was more obvious that karaoke or something like it was the music blasting nearby since the door on the other side was slightly closed while the people at the dining room table played drinking games. The teams on either side seemed to be divided by continent, as the European accents took up the opposite side of the room while North Americans shouted loudly where I stood. I moved closer to the ajar door, mentally cheering on the blokes throwing ping pong balls at the home team. The music from behind me changed to a different 90s song and some of the boys next to me looked over and laughed. 

“Looks like Gil’s up.” 

“That whole thing is fuckin’ hilarious.” 

“Is Elizabeta even here?” 

A strained voice of angst and pain started singing in the room that was so familiar I had to turn around and poke my head through the door. The other room was darkly lit, save for the large TV and the dim overhead lights that set the mood. People sat around on sofa chairs and couches, watching the three guys in the middle play Rock Band. Sure enough, the silver haired German was screaming the lyrics to _My Own Worst Enemy_ into the game’s microphone. Some students had their phones out. The drummer practically glowed in the dark, like a white glow stick… He looked like the guy from my Ancient Ruins class with the interesting sense of humor. Turns out I wasn’t the only daytime student here - which was assuring to say the least. Gil continued to cry into the mic, bending over a chair as he performed. The guitarist leaned against the wall, flicking the string key as he aced every note that came flying by on the screen. It cast a glare on his glasses. He was trying so hard not to laugh, but his grin was infamous. 

I took a seat on a stool and watched them play. Gil was definitely not caring for what his score would be - partly in part of his whaling too high or groaning too low, and partly because of Alfred’s continuous streaks and whammying to get to overdrive had been keeping up their stars. As the song reached the middle, Alfred moved away from the wall and back to the center for the guitar solo, which the albino took the opportunity of the slapping of the mic to smack it against his forehead in rhythm. I swallowed when more lyrics began to roll on screen and Gil didn’t make the motion to put the mic back to his mouth; Alfred dropped to his knees and shifted sideways to sing into it, his friend only making the “ooo” background noise. The guy from my class on the drums burst into laughter. Resting my chin on the palm of my hand, I looked away. 

Okay, it was entertaining. 

The audience clapped when the song ended, some throwing in some whoops and jeers when the scores came up. Alfred pulled the guitar strap off and set it on the ground to pat the German square on the back. Their drummer came over too. Gil looked as wasted as I could imagine him being, minus the throwing up. I pieced together he was probably - no, definitely - upset about some girl and it was related to that fight he had with the guy in the courtyard last week. The lights went on in the room as other students went over for their turn. Alfred squinted, pulling Gil from the chair. 

Gil had animalistic ears too to my surprise. Not like Heracles’, but they were as silver as his hair and straighter. He whined as he was led to a couch and left to cry a little, calling for another beer. Alfred smacked his hand away. I sipped from my cider, huffing a laugh. Like a bat, Alfred turned his face my way. I practically spat my drink back out. His expression changed from mild frustration to stupidly ecstatic as he made his way over. 

“Hey! You made it!” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. He wore a button down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and it was tucked in... with a damn belt. 

“I may have been peer pressured,” I replied, holding my cup between my hands and phone. His smile didn’t wane, he seemed so happy. “But,” I added, “I did want to come, so… thanks for inviting me, I suppose.” 

“Of course, of course,” he said, waving a hand. He looked back at the TV as the students flipped through songs and scratched the back of his neck. “I’m going to assume you watched that… fiasco?” 

“It was quite the performance.” 

His eyes glittered. He had fangs when he smiled. 

“Yeah, Gilbert is being a coward though he won’t admit it,” he exclaimed. “He’s spent the past few days slumming it at my house… or Francis’. He’s just trying to avoid his brother finding him. Ludwig’s a pretty intimidating guy sometimes.” 

Oh fuck. 

“Shite, Gilbert is Ludwig’s brother?” I almost shouted. I didn’t see the similarities. 

Alfred pursed his lips. “You… didn’t know?” 

“They don’t exactly look alike now do they?” 

“I think they have different moms,” he retorted, looking over. “But yeah, Gilbert is older by a few years - shh, I know. I didn’t believe it first either, but if you really look: Lud has a bit of a baby face.” 

“What? No he doesn’t!” 

“Ohoho, yes he does. I’m not saying to stare at him, but like, just look at the cheek and eyes area. Baby. Baby boy.” Alfred paused to giggle. “Please don’t tell him I said that. He may actually find it in himself to kill me.” 

“I can’t make any promises,” I replied, suppressing a smile with another sip of my drink. “Your glow stick friend… he’s not a nocturnal student.” 

“Ha!” Alfred clapped a hand over his mouth. “No, haha, no he isn’t. Mathias is, um,” he paused to think if he should say anything about what creature his friend is, “he’s quite the opposite of nocturnal. But he tried booty calling his partner and Lukas was not having it tonight.” Alfred put his hands up in an exaggerated shrug. “Though _someone_ tonight has been getting his ass called for hours and I haven’t seen him in a while so he might actually be dead - which would be hilariously ironic.” 

The lights in the room dimmed again as a song started up. 

“Wanna go somewhere else?” he asked me. 

“Sure.” 

We exited through a different door and into what I guess would be considered a music room? A study? There were too many rooms to this house. He turned to me as we nudged our way through dense crowds of drunk students. 

“I like your shirt,” he said, glancing at the design. “It looks cool.” 

I looked at it too. “Yeah, it does look cool.” 

He laughed, shaking his head as we then ended up back in the foyer - where less people stood and some cool night air came through the door. I didn’t realize my forearms were sweating until now. How did it get so humid inside so quickly? I slid my jacket off and let it hang over one of my arms; Alfred suddenly had a drink in hand and didn’t dare to nurse it, he just downed it like water. He didn’t say anything of it, but my pride and slight pettiness had me finishing my cider at the same time. 

“Do you want another drink?” he asked, hand out to take my cup. 

My liver said no, but my brain said: “Whisky.” 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Alfred said, spinning around to walk to the kitchen. The thin belt he was wearing was a good touch to the outfit. Very dad, but very good. 

But he still was damn fool trying to dress like a thirty year old instead of… whatever he was, probably my age, he didn’t look that different. I looked back at my t-shirt; though other people wore very similar things, next to him I felt insanely underdressed. I leaned against the open door where the breeze was and closed my eyes. It was only eleven o’clock, which normally, on a Sunday night, I would be in bed at least, reading or whatnot. Time during parties was an enigma; we might as well have been in a parallel universe. 

I heard Alfred from the kitchen before I saw him. He was ending a discussion with the young woman from before - who at this point could have been on her tenth drink of the death concoction and no one would have the slightest idea. Alfred had a semi-miffed smile on his face when he returned, handing me what was totally not just one shot. 

“Did you dump all the Scotch in here?” I blurted. The liquor filled the cup halfway. 

The American bit his lip, leaning next to me at an angle. His sharp tooth didn’t pierce his skin though, as much as I thought it would. 

“You’re a lightweight.” He didn’t ask it; he stated it. 

“What? No! Of course not, that’s such a girlish thing to be,” I rebutted, taking a sip of the whisky. Oh God, it burned all the way down. “I’ll have this finished in no time.” 

He made a face. “You know you don’t have to,” he said. I could hear the pity in his voice. 

“I want to,” I replied, taking another sip. I watched him over the rim of my cup as he slowly took a sip of his drink - and how little of it he drank this time. 

“Please don’t --” 

“Bonsoir!” The distant voice echoed in the foyer’s open ceiling. 

“Satan?” I replied, looking about. 

Francis sat on the railing of the lofted upstairs marble half wall that met the curved staircase. He was switching which leg crossed over the other in a ridiculous manner as he flipped his hair to and fro. Surprising even myself, he did in fact have horns like a goat, poking upwards from beneath his hair; he spun a thin, angular tail in his hand like it was completely a normal activity. 

“He actually is Satan,” I said aloud, more quietly, but Alfred glanced at me before laughing so much he had to grab his chest. Francis frowned and went to push himself off over the edge; long, leathery black wings came out of his back with a sound that reminded me of a belt snapping. It was a short descent and he touched the ground and pouted. I crouched, my face roughly where Alfred’s was at this point, and pressed my hand to my forehead. “Satan can fly.” 

Alfred only laughed harder, looking at me to Francis in succession. “Francis, you… I can’t believe he just… Satan… Oh, Lord, help me…” He wiped his eyes although he wasn’t crying and slowly but surely stood back up, taking a big gulp of his drink in between chuckles. 

Francis frowned, tucking his wings away until they practically disappeared and crossed his arms. “Oui, je suis Satan. I can assure you both there is a place in hell for you,” he declared, walking over to us. He grabbed the drink from Alfred’s hand and took a sip from it. 

“Ew, Francis, I don’t know whose germs are in your mouth!” Alfred complained, taking his drink back. 

“You might actually,” he replied, buttoning his loose v-neck shirt back up. He smiled knowingly as he looked at the American, whose expression changed to that look you get when you have no expression - the epitome of the straight mouth, dead eyed look. 

“You think you’re funny,” Alfred said. 

Francis mused. “I know I am.” 

I took another painful swig of the three or four or five shots that were in my cup. My face was getting warm. What was I drinking again? I looked between the both of them. 

“Are we really not going to address what the fuck?” I said, squinting at Francis’ horns. “You a goat or something?” 

They both looked at me bewildered. Alfred rubbed his lips together and coughed a laugh. Nothing I said was funny. 

“He went from zero to stage three real fast,” he said to the frog. They both smiled. 

“Yes, Arthur. I am a flying goat,” the frog said to me. 

“He’s actually the Jersey Devil,” Alfred added. They both nodded. I felt played. There was no way I was getting this drunk already. 

“You’re shitting me,” I stated, looking between the both of them. I unconsciously brought my cup back to my mouth. “Both of you are physically shitting me.” 

Any of Alfred’s laughs now came out as wheezes, but Francis continued the gag. His tail moved on its own, swishing this way and that as he talked. “Oui, I fly down to New Jersey every night to scream at the cast of the Jersey Shore.” 

I frowned, a bit frustrated as they continued, although I knew I was overreacting. I began to storm off to a different room when Alfred caught my arm and gently spun me back around, I shook the slight dizziness away. 

“We’re just breaking spades, don’t take us seriously, Artie,” he said. 

I pointed my finger at his chest. “I don’t know what that means and my name is Arthur.” 

“Right, sorry. Arthur,” he apologized, hand in the air like he was going to trial. “We were just teasing. Though, Francis is a demon if you really want to know. I’m not sure if you’ll remember any of this conversation - I haven’t been drunk like you are in a very, very long time - but if you ask him, I’m sure he’d be happy to give you a full documentary lecture about himself.” 

“You’re speaking words so fast - I don’t know what you’re saying, bruv,” I replied slowly, poking his chest again. He let go of my arm and placed his hands on his hips, just looking at me. His glasses had slid down his nose a bit. He really did have the dad look. “I’m trying to go somewhere.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Where are you trying to go?” 

“I am going to kick some underclassmen off of the Rock Band set,” I said, “and take this opportunity in my drunken state before I pass the fuck out because I _told_ you I will finish this drink because I am _not_ a lightweight because that is a _stupid_ notion,” a breath, “and I will get a _great_ score because I am good at things!” 

I poked him several more times in his chest, which was very firm beneath his shirt. I would believe him if he said he was wearing some sort of tactical vest underneath. He pushed his glasses back up his face and smiled. 

“May I join you?” he asked. 

“Please,” I quickly replied, not meeting his stare. Then followed it up with, “I forgot how to get to the room from here.” 

He led me back through the rooms to the back corner of the house where someone had changed the Rock Band edition to a newer one and set up the microphone on a stand. I went over and told the students finishing a song to move, and they looked at me as if I was waving my arms and screaming at them. Francis had followed behind and sat next to where Gilbert laid passed out - someone placed a garbage can by his face. I noticed people I already knew, like Antonio sitting in the back, conversing with other people as he tossed what appeared to be another pillow at Gilbert’s body. A pile was forming; Francis propped his feet on top of them as a cat jumped on his lap. Alfred waited patiently for the group to finish before taking a lookover of all the instruments. 

I grabbed one of the guitars just as he did and we shared a look. 

“Would you like to be electric or bass?” he asked me as I rapidly clicked through the song selection. 

“Guitar,” I mumbled, the wrong word coming out. 

He blinked, laughed and said, “I’ll be bass then.” 

I found a song that suited my mood and energy and pressed the green key; someone had come along and took over the drums and another on the keyboard - it was a full band. 

“That’s one of Journey’s faster songs, you know,” Alfred pressed, thinking I couldn’t possibly sing it and play the guitar at the same time. 

“Try and keep up then,” I retorted. The feeling in the back of my head was light and tingly; I felt like I was moving so nimbly. People accepted their roles and went through what difficulty they wanted to play. Alfred skipped down to expert and confirmed while he waited for everyone else. 

“Perhaps medium may be helpful if you’re doing two instruments?” he suggested to me again. I couldn’t tell if he was teasing again or really trying to let me know I would likely fail the song if I did both on extreme, but I turned to look at him as I clicked the string key down twice from medium and accepted expert; someone confirmed expert on mic for me on the main controller. Alfred, being a cheeky arse, shrugged, “Okay, you do you, I support your dreams.” 

The electric guitar’s notes began to fly at me from the back of the screen. I suddenly recalled this song having two solos that were not for the faint of heart. I cussed several times from notes I missed that threw off my streaks; Alfred’s bass line was currently swirling in blues from his bass groove. I couldn’t hear my voice when I sang, but I pleaded with myself that it sounded alright because I would never hear the end of it in lab. People in the room sang along regardless, including Alfred, who had shifted closer to me during my first solo. My fingers felt detached from my body, but yet ached from not practicing in years. My 93% score irked my ego but a solid cheer resonated around the room. 

Suddenly Alfred was next to me by the microphone as the second verse began. “I was alone, I never knew - what good love could do,” he sang as I took a step around the mic. 

“Then we touched, then we sang - about the loving things,” I replied, trying to keep track of the TV and not Alfred’s nonsensical eyes. That enthralling wave hit me like a bus. I was grateful the game picked up the singing of every individual in the room when the chorus hit - in which the whole house seemed to stop what they were doing to scream. I focused on the second solo, determined to ace it; both guitars swooped up to achieve overdrive and the whole screen burst into gold. My heart was pounding. My lungs were sore. “Anyway you want it, that’s the way you need it, anyway you want it…” 

“Anyway,” Alfred harmonized, and my grip on my guitar tightened. He could hit some high notes - or at least I thought he could - everything was getting incredibly loud. 

We all smacked the last notes that abruptly ended the song to the cheers of our audience. I stared at the led lights in the television until our scores came onto the screen. 

“Shite, bullocks, munter,” I released any cuss that passed my lips as the other players retired from the game. The smell of greasy food entered the room, pulling many people to the table. Alfred put the guitar down and came over. 

“You were right,” he said, smiling earnestly. 

“I didn’t get a 100.” 

He shifted his weight to one leg. “Dude, you’re drunk, you played two instruments on expert, and you still passed with pretty damn good grades that a teacher would happily put a sticker on. That’s impressive.” 

The light rose a little in the room as Alfred led me to the large couch next to where his other friends lounged. We sat as pizza boxes were being sent around, not that eating now was going to help. I noticed my cup on a stool and reached over to grab it, missing it twice before I managed to grasp it. There was still some left and I - since I wasn’t completely wasted - began to chug the rest. A cold hand pushed its way between the rim and my mouth. 

“You have game, Arthur, believe me, but please do not die tonight,” he said, taking the cup away from me. My hands followed it as he handed it to Francis to place on the table near him. “You and your liver can thank me later when you wake up from your hangover.” Alfred passed a slice of pizza to my open hands and encouraged me to eat it. Maybe I was hungry; it had been a while since I had my small dinner. 

 

“Thanks for having us, Heracles, it was a great time.” 

“You sure you don’t want help clean up?” 

“No, no, just get your friends to bed, it’s all right. The cats will help me.” 

“D’accord, ami. I did check the bedrooms though and they are impeccable.” 

I grumbled at the talking and sudden cool air that stung my nose and ears, pressing my face deeper into the warm, soft fur my head rested on. 

“He isn’t going to vomit on your jacket is he? Isn’t that thing practically a museum artefact at this point?” 

I felt like I was on a boat. 

“Christ, I hope not. Is Gil holding up? You two seem really slow.” 

“Oh har har, sorry we aren’t some special breed.” 

“Alfred, how do you know where he lives anyway?” 

“Uhh, I got the receipt from your boyfriend. His address was on it. He just needs to wake up enough to get inside... Do you have the time?” 

“Si, it’s quarter of six. The sun doesn’t rise for another forty minutes.” 

The fur hummed. I stretched. 

“Shit, he had a jacket with him, didn’t he?” 

“Calm down, I have it in my bag.” 

It was quiet again for a while longer. 

“His things are in there, right? Like his phone, wallet, and his wand? He had his wand in there too.” 

“Oui, cher, it’s all in there. You’re getting riled up.” 

“Sorry, I’m tired.” 

I slowly opened my eyes, face pressed against the surface of where the worn leather met a dark fur collar. My arms were in front of me, dangling over shoulders; my thighs propped up as if I was sitting. My brain fit the pieces of the puzzle and let me know I was being carried on someone’s back. The sky was still black, but the hints of dark blue were on the horizon, warning us that the sun was on its way. We were on the road that neighbored the large graveyard that took up some of the ten mile stretch between the academy and the town. I watched as the crypts and trees passed by. A silhouette stood by an empty clearing, looking back at us. I couldn’t, nor tried to make out details, but the shape of the person looked obvious. 

“Why is Alfred all the way over there?” I mumbled aloud, huffing indignantly. “Stupid.” I blinked heavily, unaware of the tensing shoulders of my carrier. 

“Quoi?” 

“What did he say?” 

The breeze ruffled my hair. I closed my eyes again, letting my head loll to the other cheek. What would he be doing out there in the middle of a graveyard anyway? 

“Alfred, wait up!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! This is the longest chapter yet and I had writer's block for a few days after I arrived back from the UK! I continue to surprise myself with how things turn out within the chapter. And throwing in foreshadowing and teases are super fun (as long as I remember I did that, aha). Editing this format took forever.


	7. May I?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the really late and short update guys. This semester has been killer and I've been writing so much for other classes that I've had no time to write for pleasure and writer's block kicks in whenever I have free time. But the semester is halfway over next week, and I should have some free time to write over spring break (I'll be in Disney World for a few days and have time in DC for the rest before classes start again).  
> I know this chapter is really short and kinda written in a crappy way since I had a long break in between writing parts of it, but next chapter is planned to be longer with a lot more of your USUK and friends interaction!! Have you guys developed a favorite character yet?

Everything hurt. I thought maybe I had died last night or perhaps went to war overnight. My knees were aching again from things I didn’t remember, and the simple task of rolling over to lay on my back seemed to take forever. The shades by the terrace were haphazardly closed, with one curtain pulled a bit too much to the center, completely disregarding the side. 

My hands immediately went to cover my face; pressing my palms into my eyes and sliding them to my temples. Food. I needed food. I tossed my leg over the edge of the bed and inched it around until it secured foothold on a rung of the ladder. I should have noticed that the last step off was not the usual hardness of a wood floor, but soft and fabric. 

“Schieße!” 

My immediate reaction was to lift my foot in a ridiculous attempt to fly - seeing my other foot was also off the ladder. Gilbert rolled over as I fell on top of him, both of us groaning like hungover nits. He had one of my towels from the bathroom tossed over him as a blanket. 

“Whose house am I in?” he asked, clutching his head. 

“You’re in my flat… apartment… whatever it’s called,” I quickly replied, getting to my knees. 

He looked at me, half dazed, and said, “Who the fuck are you?” 

That’s right; we never actually met each other properly. Which made the situation present even more confusing. He had passed out not too long after I had seen him at the party, and I… well… I didn’t remember leaving exactly. I did recall some crazy dreams every now and then though - leading to a crippling fear that some of those dreams were real. 

A voice popped up from my couch next to us, and my heart just about reached its limit on surprises. “Hey, j’essaie de dormir, ici,” it mumbled. “C’est trop tôt…” 

“Francis?” I exacerbated my tone, pushing myself up to look at him lounge on my couch like he lived there. “What are you doing here?” 

“Je dors.” 

“No shit, but why are you sleeping in my house? How did you even get in here?” I asked, pulling my favorite blanket off of him. He reached for it with his eyes closed and I smacked his hand away. “Damn it, Frog, wake up. There’s no way you’re remotely hungover.” 

Francis opened his eye and shrugged. “Nous… ah - we - needed to bring you home, so… we did. You are welcome.” 

“Who’s we?” 

Antonio emerged from the bathroom, yawning a good morning. He walked to my kitchen like he owned the place. Gilbert sat up. 

“You slept in the bathroom, Tony?” he asked, laughing until he winced. 

“Like a dog,” the Spaniard replied, earning a chuckle from both of my house invaders. 

I walked over and took the food he had grabbed from the pantry and put it back, slapping his hands at whatever he pawed at. “You three need to knock it off with the touching my stuff and using my things, I work hard for that food and,” I pointed at Francis, “now I’m going to have to wash that contaminated blanket.” 

“Rude.” 

“Amigo, I can make us all breakfast, you won’t even have to lift a finger,” Antonio claimed, opening all the cupboards to see what I had in stock. He waited until I begrudgingly nodded, and smiled. “One hangover cure coming up!” 

Gilbert shifted over to the couch and fell half on top of Francis, who patted his silver hair sympathetically. I could see Francis was trying to think of something while he looked around my room. 

“...Trois… quatre…” he was mumbling, staring at each of us. Then he blinked, sighed, and laughed in one motion. “I was wondering why you said three, Rosbif, and I remembered we forgot Alfred.” 

Leaning against the counter, I did a double-take of the room. No one else was in here. “What do you mean ‘Alfred’?” I asked. “I have a studio apartment, where would you forget him?” 

Francis simply pointed to my door, but said nothing. I raised a brow and followed the point, walking to my door, unlocked it, and cracked it open. 

I’m not sure what I was expecting to see upon looking out into my apartment building’s staircase and the hall that led to each individual room. The light of the morning sun was shining through the window at the end of the hall, lighting most of the area save for where the upper staircase shielded the lower. Alfred sat there, in the shadow, looking as tired as I had felt last night. That flask I had once seen him with the other week hung loosely between his fingers. His glasses sat on his head, the mark from the nosepiece still pink on either side. 

“Hey,” I said, opening the door a bit more. “Did you sleep out here?” 

Alfred perked up, clearly surprised, and tried to hide it with a sloppy smile. He shoved the flask into his jacket pocket. “Oh, morning! Ah, no, I didn’t,” he replied, adjusting his hand on the ground to move closer to his body, away from the light. 

I paused. “Did you sleep at all?” 

“No,” he said. “But that’s all right, I wasn’t expecting to today.” 

We both stared at each other for a moment longer before I looked back into my apartment. The smell of the food Antonio was cooking did smell pretty good. 

“Why didn’t you come in with the rest of them? They seemed to make themselves right at home.” 

Alfred chuckled lightly. “You weren’t awake to let us in. Francis had to go through your stuff to grab your keys. He’s the one that opened the door.” 

I frowned, glaring at the Frenchman. “But,” I said, continuing, “you still could have just walked in with them. Probably would have been more comfortable than the cement stairs.” 

“May I be invited in, then?” he asked, leaning forward with a grin. 

“Would you like to come in?” I asked, leaning forward as well. “The door is open.” 

He cocked his head. “You need to say it.” 

This was the longest conversation I have had in this creepy hallway. I kicked the door fully open and waved my arm like a host. “Please just come in already so I can eat without feeling guilty of ditching you out here.” 

With a flip of his collar, Alfred practically leaped the distance from the shadow of the staircase into the dimly lit entry of my room. The other three raised their hands in an enthusiastic cheer as Alfred dropped his jacket in the shady part of my room and finally collapsed into a heap, back facing us. 

“And he’s out,” Francis announced, getting up from the couch to throw the towel Gil used on top of Alfred’s unconscious body. “We shall wake you when the academy opens.” 

If I was sipping water like I was suppose to be, I would have spat it out. “Holy fuck, what time is it? Are we late? I forgot it was Monday - why on Earth would students have a party on a bloody school night?” I went to run to grab my phone when Gilbert kicked his leg out to catch me in the gut. 

“Chill, blondie,” he said. “It’s a half-day for club signups. Don’t go freaking out. School isn’t that awesome that you need to arrive hours early.” 

“It’s Arthur,” I replied, rubbing my stomach. “Francis, where did you put my things?” Amazed that I used his name, the frog diligently grabbed everything from his bag and handed it to me, wand and all. I gently tapped the quartz against my palm and pointed it at the mess around the room of the things the trio touched. “Parw ti pu,” I grumbled, sending the jackets and blankets to their proper places. 

“Awesome,” Gilbert had said from Francis’ legs. “You think you can use magic on people?” 

“Um, yes, but that’s different,” I replied, looking back at him. “And I don’t think that’s a good way to help with your… relationship issues.” 

“I don’t have relationship issues!” he shouted back. “She just doesn’t know what she’s doing with that waterboy.” 

Francis rolled his eyes and patted his hair again. “Even I can’t fix their issue.” He told me. “I recommended a threesome and everything; polygamy is still an option, cher, just talk to both of them, I’m sure Elizabeta would be happy to have both bitches.” 

“I’m not going to fucking ask that!” Gilbert got off the couch and swayed for a second, then ran to my bathroom to throw up in the toilet. “And I’m not a bitch!” He complained from behind the door. Francis snickered and Antonio simply started laughing as he put some plates on the counter full of eggs, oatmeal, and breakfast sandwiches. 

I took the time as we ate to message Abby about Peter, to check in and make sure they were okay. It was still early all things considered; if I didn’t drop Peter off around this time, she would likely still be sleeping. The lack of immediate response didn’t worry me as much as it would before. Alfred hardly stirred with all the commotion we were making; he slept like he was holding himself, his hand laying gently on the side of his face, arms crossed and tucked in an unusual way that didn’t quite look comfortable from the side. I really wondered why he didn’t just come inside with the rest of them, or if he took one look inside my apartment and decided that the stairwell would be far more pleasing to sit in. I was glad he didn’t just go home though; having company other than Peter to wake up to was pleasant in a way - at least it would have been more if my head wasn’t pounding. It took a second to notice that all three of my conscious guests were also looking at Alfred. 

“He must feel pretty safe to just conk out,” Antonio said, eating what was left on his plate. Francis replied with a quiet hum, collecting our plates to place them by the sink. 

Gilbert leaned off the counter. “Think he would notice if I -” 

“Yes, he would,” Francis rebutted. “You’re not very sneaky when you smell like alcohol and dog.” 

Both Antonio and Gilbert gave a look before smelling their shirts; I brought up a hand to cover the smile on my face. 

“All you furries smell the same,” Alfred spoke up from across the room. My laugh broke out suddenly, and we all turned back to look at him - his eye was open, peeking through the space between his fingers. “Francis, you just smell like perfume and sin.” The smirk evident on his face. 

“Is it good perfume?” Francis teased, walking over to smack him with the towel; Alfred lifted his leg to block it. 

“No, it mixes too much with your musk,” He replied, “My power nap ended in suffocation, thanks so much, y’all.” Alfred sat up, fluffing his hair haphazardly. He adjusted his glasses to sit lightly on his nose. 

“Joining any clubs, Al?” Antonio asked as Alfred sauntered to the kitchen counter, picking at the crumbs on our plates. 

“I haven’t looked at the list, though I’ll probably check them all out. Cooking usually knows I walk in all the time to try their stuff - I’m not even part of it and I’m pretty sure I have honorary membership.” He eyed the flask in his pocket and quietly sighed, covering the mild disappointment on his face with a grin. I frowned, but didn’t say anything about it. He looked to me. “There are a lot of magic based clubs if you’re interested; full of nice, or at least interesting, people. There’s a literature club too, right Francis?” 

“Oui, Roderich runs it alongside music.” 

Gilbert rolled his eyes. “Concept: Gilbert Appreciation Club.” 

“I don’t think Kiku would approve that one, Gil,” Alfred replied with a chuckle. “If he did, your brother may disband it.” 

Something in my hungover brain suddenly clicked. “Oh shit, Gilbert, your brother wants you to come home,” I said in a single breath. “I meant to tell you at the party, but, you know, we were both fairly sloshed.” 

Gilbert frowned, unconsciously picking at his nails while the rest of us tried to avoid looking at him when the awkwardness in the atmosphere rose, all but Alfred, that is. 

“Dude, just go. Not that I don’t love when you occupy my guest room days at a time, but the most you have to do is breathe the same air as your family, brothers have disagreements all the time,” he said, “Trust me, I know.” 

“I know you know,” Gil retorted, leaning back. “I’m just… he didn’t have to embarrass me in front of the whole night body. It’s already humiliating enough that mein vati had to go pick him over me for that position.” 

“Yeah, but, one: you’re only in class at night, and two: would you actually want all that responsibility? Lud gets no free time, you can do whatever you want.” 

Francis nodded. “That’s true, you’d be doing a lot of paperwork and holding meetings that have nothing to do with anything you’re interested in. Plus, you’re the more social brother - everyone knows that.” 

“Si! You’re the most approachable! Not nearly as terrifying!” 

Alfred shrugged, “I can vouch that you’re terrifying at least once every twenty-nine days.” Gilbert laughed in return. 

I grabbed a cup and filled it with water to end the fading existence of my headache. “I barely know you, but you seem… passionate in many things,” I exclaimed, sipping slowly. “Also if you guys need to shower or something, then I recommend you do that or hurry to your own homes if you don’t want to be late.” 

They all made the move to look at the time on their phones and four sets of eyes glanced about with disdain. Then Alfred looked over at the window as the fog drifted away to let the sun through. 

“Thanks, I hate it,” he whispered, putting his phone back in his pocket. “Looks like I’m shadow jumping, my dudes. I’ll see you guys in a bit.” 

With them gone, leaving me with a mere ninety minutes to get ready and get to the academy, showering was priority number one. A message from Abby confirmed they were both doing well and Peter was just sitting down to eat breakfast. I threw on a light sweater and ran to catch the next bus into the rural region of town. I wasn’t expecting to see as many people as I did - a normal Monday afternoon was busy, sure, but it almost looked like the whole school was here - a couple dozen students under umbrellas, others basking in the sun during this unusually warm week. Not a schoolbag in sight. Inside the school’s halls, it was exactly how I imagined it - tables lined either side as students flowed through like a river. Some clubs opted to be outside in the courtyards, attracting those who were interested in outdoor activities. I couldn’t help but admire the creativity of the Magic Club’s table; it remained diverse with contributions from all kinds of magic users, from witches to fairies to elves. I took a flier from their table. It folded itself into an origami figure and one of the boys at the table caught it and attached a string to its neck. 

“We’re trying to do the one thousand paper crane challenge,” he said, stealing the flier back. “It only works if someone new touches a flier, but you can take another one. Thanks!” 

With an awkward chuckle, I took another flier and scribbled my email on their member list. I had a select few in mind, and to be frank, they weren’t that hard to find. 

There was a big sign on top of the Literature Club’s table that read _“We promise we won’t delete you”_ \- likely a pun that flew over my head, but I saw a few people laugh and put their names on the signups and I followed suit. 

I was sitting on the steps of the doorway in the sun going through my newly acquired club papers when a shadow cast itself over me. I looked up. Alfred stood with a black umbrella, wearing different clothes than this morning and carrying a few fliers of his own. 

“Looks like you made it home okay,” I said, making a motion to move over. He smiled and sat down next to me, adjusting the umbrella accordingly. 

“Yeah, they unfortunately like to make it hard for nocturnal students to sign up for things,” he said. “I have an extra water bottle if you want it. I don’t really need it.” 

I took it from him and nodded. “Not a fan of the sun?” 

“Oh.” He blinked. “No, I love it. I just… can’t, uh,” he paused to laugh. “I get sunburned very quickly, I guess you could say. But it’s nice to see everyone enjoying its warmth.” Alfred’s shoulders suddenly released tension as he people-watched. I took a few sips from the water he gave me, carefully watching him. He looked like he wanted to bask. 

“I want to thank -” 

“Sorry for -” 

“You, what -” 

“What we -” 

We both stopped talking; his smile quickly appeared again and it was contagious. I covered my mouth and nodded for him to go on, but he shook his head and waited. 

“You go first,” he said. 

I cleared my throat. “Okay,” I replied. “I wanted to thank you for inviting me to the party last night. I had a pretty good time… at least from what I remember. I assume I had a good time. Did I have a good time?” 

He laughed. “I hope so? You killed it on the Xbox, practically gave me a heart attack with your enthusiasm, and also your alcoholism.” 

I pressed my hands to my head. “Right, yes. My liver does thank you.” 

Alfred laughter could shake the ground. 

“And I was just apologizing for all of us kind of trespassing at your place?” he said, twirling the umbrella with his forefinger and thumb. “I didn’t want to leave knowing that they were all just in your apartment without, um, making sure you woke up okay.” 

I sat for a moment, thinking back on everything I remembered. Alfred had waited around a lot on more than one occasion to make sure I was okay. I could tell he was trying not to look at me, but the motions he was making made his glasses slide precariously down his nose. I noticed an old watch that didn’t work on his wrist of the hand that held the umbrella. 

“Thank you,” I said once more. Then, quickly, I changed my tone. “You should have just come inside in the first place; I don’t know what you thought you were doing in the hallway all that time. 

“Oh excuse me for having manners,” he said, sticking out his tongue. 

“You’re my friend, you’re allowed to come inside in situations like that!” 

“You consider me a friend?” 

I paused. He was a deer in the headlights staring at me, mouth slightly pulled up in a small smirk. Wrapping up my fliers into one round baton, I whacked his arm. “Don’t say it like that, you tit. I don’t talk to that many people at this school.” 

“But I’ve reached friend status? Really?” He stood up quickly. I could see the balls of his feet bouncing lightly. 

“Yes?” 

I’ve never seen a grown man leap with such enthusiasm as he shouted to other passerbyers. “I’ve reached friend status! Francis!” 

“What?” I heard that voice from what seemed like a few stories up. 

“I’m in the friend zone!” Alfred replied, throwing a thumbs up, then reeling back as it left the shade of his umbrella. I shoved my face into my hands some more, red faced at the attention. 

“Alfred!” I complained, “Don’t make me jinx you, I swear on my life if you keep embarrassing me…” 

But I was smiling. Making friends perhaps wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.


	8. Glass House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Science projects, naked Spaniards, and doors that should never be opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for being patient with me! I had no time over the past few months to write and I just moved back home to New England two weeks ago. Unpacking took forever and with work starting, I've been trying to squeeze in as much time as I can to finishing. So expect a chapter a month over this summer! Hopefully more if I have a few rainy days off!
> 
> I turn 21 soon, and all your comments and Kudos' have been like surprise gifts! Thanks for your support! Sorry for the short chapter this time around, but sometimes filler is needed. Not that this is filler. I think every chapter reveals something a bit new. xoxo

“All right everyone, settle down,” the professor exclaimed, waving some paper in the air to clear the smoke caused by today’s lesson. “Now, for next class I want you guys to figure out what chemicals I mixed to do just that. Yes, they’re scentless for a reason for the presentation, I don’t need any of you cheating to get ahead of others; no nonsense.” 

“But Monsieur, isn’t a chemical’s scent important for identification?” Francis asked from behind. 

“You got me there, Mr. Bonnefoy, but I’m allowed to be difficult with you all; I get paid for that,” he replied. 

A quiet chuckle went around the room. The professor, Dr. Marius, pulled out a stack of stapled papers and distributed them to the desks in the front of the room. Students took one and passed them back. I handed one to Alfred, who grinned like an idiot. I looked at the mess on the professor’s lab table and thought of my apartment; was I allowed to do this in the street instead? 

Dr. Marius sat on the edge of his desk, pointing at the papers. “Follow the directions carefully; I don’t want any phone calls of injured students or angry family members calling about property damage. The questions are due next class. You’re allowed to work in groups. Have a safe night! I’m here if anyone has any questions for me.” 

“Oh, thank God,” Alfred said. Antonio and I turned around to face him as we packed up our things. He shoved the papers into his bag and looked at the three of us. “I love blowing crap up.” 

“I could have guessed that,” I said, checking my watch. 

“Francis is coming over my place tomorrow to work on it if you two would like to join. I have a pretty big backyard. No close neighbors to annoy with explosions when we ‘accidentally’ cause them.” He laughed. 

Antonio nudged my arm and smiled. “Si, that sounds great. I’m seeing Lovino tomorrow evening, but I shouldn’t be too late getting to yours.” 

“Bring food,” Francis added, typing furiously on his phone. 

I mentally was checking my schedule. I couldn’t possibly do it in my apartment, nor in the public space outside without getting in trouble, but I couldn’t leave Peter again so many times. 

“Bring him with you,” Alfred said quietly. He rested his chin on his arms as they crossed in front of him. 

I jumped in my seat. “What?” 

“I said you can bring Peter with you. I don’t mind.” We stared at each other for a long second. “You looked concerned. I assumed you were thinking about your brother. I don’t… I don’t have mind-reading abilities, you can breathe.” 

My sigh came out in nervous laughter. “If you had telepathy I would really be fucked,” I said, rubbing my thumbs and forefingers together. To avoid Alfred’s confused expression, I swiveled to Antonio - who was, technically, my actual lab partner. “So this is fine?” 

“I’ll meet you there,” he said with a nod. “Text me a time and I’ll head over, Al, okay? I have to catch up with my boyfriend, I’ll see you all around!” He tossed his bag over his shoulder and scurried off, leaving me with the other two. 

“Wow, I’m stupid,” Alfred commented to himself as Antonio left. “Can’t leave you hanging.” He ripped a piece of paper out of Francis’ notebook and pulled the pen from behind his ear. “This is my address,” he said, scribbling it down in his heavy, slanted, half-cursive font. He slid it over the table to me and I took it. It didn’t seem too far away. 

“Thank you,” I said. 

He beamed. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

Francis gasped at his phone and the two of us turned to look at him. The Frenchman went straight back to typing. 

“He’s been like this the entire class,” Alfred explained. “You tune it out after a while.” 

 

Peter held onto my hand as we walked from a different bus stop. The sun was low in the sky, but not yet set. I had to look up the proper directions to the house, and the closest route with public transportation still had a while of walking involved. It was sort of between the school grounds and the city, except off deeper into woodsy, wide neighborhoods to the west. My brother kicked an acorn laying on the sidewalk as the cement shifted to stone and we glanced up to the small path to Alfred’s house. It was most shockingly… quite normal looking. Large, for sure, but not what I was expecting. Lots of trees hung over the porch and around the yard alongside shaped hedges and unlit lanterns. I pushed through the metal gate, staring at the number on the house and back at the written address a dozen times to make sure I wasn’t just trespassing. We stepped up onto the front porch, shaded by the overhang and some conveniently hanging tree branches. I firmly knocked on the door. 

To say it immediately swung open would be an understatement. It was half open before I pulled my hand away. Alfred nudged his glasses up his nose with his shoulder; he held a wine glass in one hand and a stupid smile on his face. 

“Thank God you’re here,” he said, moving aside to let us in. “Francis is having girl drama and hasn’t shut up for what seems like forever... Hey, little man, nice to meet ya, I’m Alfred,” he said to Peter, holding out his hand. Peter looked at it for a minute, but finally placed his hand in a similar fashion. Alfred laughed, carefully taking it to shake. 

“Your hand is cold,” Peter commented. 

“Hopefully not for long,” Alfred replied, taking a sip from his glass. “Come on in, we’re in the dining room.” 

Beyond the foyer came a wide hallway that opened up to rooms on either side. To the immediate right lay what looked like an office space - with a desk and computer, many papers and file cabinets around the room; to the left was a little breakfast nook - a small room with few chairs and a table. Down the hall a bit further, the next room to the right was a large living room, where the sofa wrapped around the corner in an L shape, a large television on the wall, and a brick fireplace on the opposite end near the large back windows; there was a room in the back of the hallway, with another door to the backyard, and the start of stairs leading up to the next floor; a thin door near the other side of the staircase, the only one inside while everything else seemed quite open, was shut. We walked to the left into a dining and kitchen space, the same size as the living room. Francis sat on the dining table, the unusual wings and Satan-esque ensemble out and displayed. He was filling up a half-empty glass with more wine. 

“She’s probably so embarrassed to be with me; did I come on too strong? It was our third date - I thought, non, I know most people these days go strong if they make it to date three. Zut, I know it. I’ve watched this generation progress in the love and dating factor et ils sont très mauvais à ça…” Francis muttered off as we walked in, downing the wine in a few sips before pouring more. “Pensées?” 

Alfred shuffled by him into the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder to look at me with a ‘help’ expression before opening the fridge. “I think you’re overthinking it,” he replied to Francis. “Hey, Arthur, what would you and your brother like to drink? I have some soda… juices… water… almond milk.” 

“Soda!” Peter cried. 

“Juice,” I said. “Peter will have juice.” 

“No!” 

“Yes.” 

Alfred gave a hearty laugh and pulled out a container of orange juice. “And for the older brother?” 

“Honestly, just water would be great,” I said, awkwardly standing by a chair. Peter crawled into the one at the head of the table and grabbed for the wine bottle. Francis almost seemed to oblige. I smacked both their hands. 

“Why do you have a tail?” Peter asked, looking at the coiled tail on the table. It flicked upwards and Peter screamed in delight. 

“Why wouldn’t I have a tail?” Francis gently retorted. 

I was more surprised that the tail was the one thing Peter asked about. 

Alfred came over with two glasses and set one on the table for my brother and handed the other to me. “You sure you don’t want a lemon slice or something? That’s healthy, right?” 

Francis scoffed, wiping his tears with a finger. “You wouldn’t know healthy if it hit you in the face,” he said. 

“Hey, I don’t eat for health, I eat for pleasure.” 

“Wouldn’t we all love that,” I said, trying to piece together the subtext. 

Francis laughed. Then he laughed harder. 

“Oui, I eat for pleasure many times as well.” 

Alfred blinked. “Francis, there’s a fucking kid in here.” 

“Language,” I whispered. 

“Oh shit,” he said, “fuck, I - dammit -” He shoved his fist in his mouth. “I’m going to turn around and walk away right now.” 

We laid out the papers for the project over the table and went over the ingredients we’d need. Fortunately Francis and Alfred had thought ahead and bought the things that weren’t already in the house. When I asked about how much I owed them, I got laughter instead. Peter wandered to the living room across the hall, wanting to sit on the couch instead. Alfred’s place was incredibly homey; he had many photographs on the walls alongside paintings and other pieces of art that seemed pretty old, but the furniture and every appliance looked almost new, right out of the box. 

“It’s not what I expected,” I said. 

Alfred looked up from the paper he was scribbling on. “What’s not?” 

“Your house.” 

“Oh?” he replied, mouth twitching up at the corner. “And what were you expecting?” 

“Hell, I don’t know. Some… Victorian home or something, I think. I don’t have many hints to go by with you - Francis, I’m sure, lives in a cave.” 

“Ha!” Alfred wheezed. Francis gave us both a look. “A cave in Jersey. We need to add that one to the story.” 

“Very funny, you two,” Francis said, taking Alfred’s empty glass from across the table with his tail, carrying his glass and the empty wine bottle in his hands to the kitchen. “If you’re so curious, rosbif, I live near the vineyards on the other side of the city.” 

“That’s… that’s far,” I said, mapping out the county in my head. 

“By car, yes, I suppose so,” he said. His wings fluttered as if on queue. I guess flying was a reasonable way to get to the academy, but imagining Francis flying over multiple neighborhoods like a giant bat thing without being seen seemed so unlikely. Then again, I didn’t know what kind of hunters were looking for Francis’ species; he didn’t look the type someone would want to necessarily mess with. And Alfred… so far - besides the fangs half the nocturnal population seemed to have - was more or less human looking. 

Peter wandered back into the dining room, hugging a pillow to his chest. “There’s a giant black dog outside!” he said, pointing to the window facing the backyard. My wand was in my hand before Alfred looked up from the assignment. 

He squinted, tilting his ear in the direction of the hallway. With a huff, he pushed himself out from the chair and sauntered out of the room. I followed close behind, pinching my wand between my thumb and index. When Alfred opened the backdoor, the sun was just poking through the trees as it continued its descent. Some rays fell into the house and he quickly stepped back, awkwardly looking to me. 

“Hey, um, do you mind just poking your head out?” he asked, pointing to the screen door. “It’s probably Antonio. He usually comes to the back and sits on the porch because he’s too lazy to knock.” 

“Antonio… is a dog,” I said, stepping forward and opening the door a little bit. There he sat, practically the size of a horse. “Bloody hell, that’s some Sirius Black shit!” 

Alfred laughed. “You aren’t wrong.” 

The dog, perking up as I opened the door, stood up and leaped up the stairs. He looked at me, and then to his back. I noted the straps around him that held a box to his body. A pizza box. Tentatively, I leaned forward and unclipped some of the straps so that I could take the box. 

“Um, thanks, Antonio,” I said when he turned back to face us. I handed the pizza to Alfred - who turned to the kitchen and was back with a pair of trousers. 

“You look like you didn’t think ahead,” he said, throwing them out the door. Antonio caught them in his mouth and shrugged - as much as a huge dog could shrug. 

“C’mon Arthur, you don’t want to see him transform back, it’s gross.” I let the door close. 

Antonio met us in the kitchen partially clothed. The pizza hogged as much of the dining table as our assignment did. Eating next to potentially deadly chemicals felt like such an appropriate thing to do tonight. 

“Sorry,” he said, wiping his sweat with paper towels across the room where Alfred tossed more. He threw an air freshener as well. “Lovino was busy with the restaurant tonight so I helped with some deliveries and stuff before I came here.” 

“You deliver pizza as a dog?” Peter asked, munching on his second slice. His ears were tinting back to blue. 

“If only,” Antonio replied. “And who are you, little guy?” 

“This is my brother, Peter,” I said, fluffing his hair. Peter scrambled to push it back down. “I couldn’t leave him at home and Alfred said it was all right.” I glanced over at Alfred. He met my glance and smiled. 

Antonio nodded. “You two do look alike. Is he a witch like his brother?” 

“He’s… capable,” I said. “We’re not going down that road quite yet.” 

“Si, he is very young, I understand,” he said, “I didn’t even know I could turn into a black dog until one day when I was nine; I sneezed and everything was just like…” He brought his hands together into a ball. “Poof!” He imitated an explosion. “Except, less like that and more of me shouting at the fact my limbs were shifting and there was hair everywh-” 

“Okay! Okay,” Alfred said, getting up. “That’s enough, you guys are disgusting.” He waved his hands around. “I already have to deal with Francis’ invisible leathery extensions. I’m going to stand next to Arthur because I know he isn’t going to break in half and shift into some smelly thing. I know some Brits do that, but I’m pretty sure he’s not one of them.” 

A weird laughing noise came from my throat. I pressed my knuckles to my lips and coughed lightly. “I think we should get started on this project. There seems to be a lot of questions before we even get to blow anything up.” 

“Oh yeah.” Alfred grabbed his work from across the table. “I started filling in chemical formulas so feel free just to copy them. Francis, can you and Antonio start bringing this other stuff outside? I’m going to grab a hoodie.” 

“I think you’ll be okay,” Francis commented, picking up the vials and containers. “The sun is almost gone, I don’t think it’ll be too annoying.” 

We set everything up in the backyard, which stretched to three-quarters a size of a football field at least. Most of it was grass that met with the trees in the back where the woods provided a natural property line. There was a fenced in pool to the side where small lanterns hung from tree branches. The test tubes were placed out of reach from any wayward trees around the yard; Antonio dumped the base chemical in while we decided which arrangement to test first. While debating who was going to potentially get exploded, I held the vial of the reactant between my fingers. I took out my wand. I looked at the vial. I looked at Alfred. Alfred looked at me. He nodded enthusiastically. Levitating the vial was nothing, but aiming to toss it into the hand-sized tube was work. With a little creativity and cheers from the peanut gallery, the chemical was haphazardly chucked into the other, and a quick, bright white flash sent sparks flying. We whooped and hollered, quickly setting up the next batch. My aim was certainly improving throughout the evening and into the dark of the night. When the fifth chemical pairing exploded into the dark gray smoke that matched our professor’s, it was a little disappointing that there wasn’t more we could do. 

Then Alfred tensed; looking at his house as if it was on fire. I blinked and he was gone, the door slamming shut. Francis stood up, pushing his hair back behind his horns. 

“Alfred?” he called out. 

I heard my brother’s uncomfortable crying before I saw them come straight back out the door. I scrambled to my feet, taking Peter from Alfred’s arms. I looked over him, checking for scratches or bruises. There was nothing. 

“What happened?” I asked, concern leaking into my voice as Peter hugged me. Alfred was shaking, I could tell. “Alfred, what happened?” 

“I thought I locked the door…” he mumbled. “He was going downstairs and I couldn’t… he can’t…” His eyes never fully met mine. “Um… we should… we should finish filling these questions. I’ll finish these…” He walked over to the pile of papers we left on the grass and knelt down by them, silently writing. 

I looked at Francis - who was frowning but not in the way I thought he would be. He glanced from Alfred to me. “Peter will be fine. Likely just shaken from how quick Alfred runs. Don’t be too worried.” 

“I’m not sure who I should be more worried about,” I replied. 

We all moved back inside. Antonio folded his work in half and held it for a moment before looking down at his borrowed trousers, sincerely debating before he told Alfred he’d wash them and give them back later. Francis packed up his papers and slid them neatly into his bag, paying more attention to his phone once more than to the rest of us. Peter had calmed down, drinking the rest of his juice before sliding the cup on the counter in the kitchen. Alfred hung in the hallway. 

“I called you a Pinion. They’re on their way,” he said to me when I walked over. 

“I still owe you for the last ride. I don’t mind taking the bus.” 

“It’s okay. Pinion is safer and it’s late.” He was rubbing his fingers together. “You have class in the morning, so… getting back home quicker is always better.” He gave his best fake smile that he could manage at the moment. 

Peter and I left the house in a state of utter bewilderment.


	9. Pluto

There wasn’t one cloud in the sky as I stepped off the bus onto campus grounds. It was early, and my legs felt ridiculously heavy for a week of not doing much work. I rubbed my eyes during Transcendency as the notes grew longer in my notebook. The lessons on energy manipulation were pretty intriguing, especially when the professor started showing examples. He pulled at the air without a wand and pushed his hand through - it disappearing into an invisible gap. The class ooo’d at the display, some pushing out of their seats to get a better look. I squinted at the air that he moved. It was almost blurred, but hardly noticeable. He removed his hand, and on his finger sat a hummingbird. A handful of students in the front row absolutely lost it.  


“We’ll be discussing familiars next week,” the professor said as he handed back quiz grades while the students left. I slid mine into my folder and inched out the door. 

 

It was so warm out, I dared to call it hot. A flock of students had laid out on the grass, soaking in the sun. I kept sunglasses in my bag for the occasion, along with sunscreen, a hat, and a book about otherworldly dimensions - partly inspired by this morning’s course. I sat with my legs crossed, book in my lap. The author used a pseudonym, and I was unable to find anything about them on my phone, but the way it was written hinted strongly that this was factual, not just an interesting topic of fiction. The spine of the book, covered in curious markings, was unbroken - as if no one had grabbed it before from the academy’s library. I took notes in my class notebook as I read, scribbling in different colored ink so nothing mixed too much.  


A blanket was gently tossed on the grass near my bag, and I looked up at the familiar face of Kiku - who was holding out a small cup from the cafe. Setting the book down, I took it graciously. The tea was mellowing down to a warm temperature, but it was as refreshing as anything with the sun beating down on my back.  


“How has your week been?” Kiku asked, settling down next to me with his own cup.  


I took another sip as I thought. “Honestly?” I said. “This week seems fake.”  


“I get that,” he replied. “Classes still haven’t gotten into full swing; I wish we could get past the silly introductions and summaries, but I suppose it could be worse.”  


We sat in contempt silence as we looked out at the large pond that bordered the campus and neighboring student houses. I’ve never seen anyone over there much before, but the banks were swarming with students. With autumn coming, taking advantage of hot days only made sense. A few students, we noticed, started to race from one side of the pond to the other and back. Every time, the winner was a girl Kiku called Elizabeta. She would dive under and speed like a missile out of view and come back just as fast - greeting a familiar brunet, Roderich, at the bank with a kiss. He was unceremoniously dressed as a lifeguard, and she had a long scaly tail that floated on the surface, flicking at the water. Gilbert was also down there. I watched as he uncomfortably waded back and forth in the water near her. They talked and she smiled. Roderich moved his arm and a string of water followed it - throwing itself at Gil before he got too close. The echoes of unclear shouting were swept up by the jostled trees in the wind. Feliciano tried to pull Ludwig from his spot on the grass towards the water. Kiku and I laughed as he actually managed to flip the stout German over with a strength that didn’t match the size of his body.  


“Honda!”  


We both arched our heads in the opposite direction as a seemingly familiar, androgynous man strided towards us, expression sour. His skin reflected the sun as gold flecks along his cheeks, long hair tied back and looped around itself in a small bun. I recognized him from my transcendence class. He often sat near me, but we never talked. The disgruntled look on his face didn’t seem too friendly to strike up a random conversation at the moment.  


Kiku sat up, placing his empty cup on the blanket. “Yao,” he greeted.  


Yao stopped a few feet in front of us, arms crossed. “Honda, I told you to keep your family and their ridiculous antics off my land.”  


Oh, this would be an awkward conversation to be witness to.  


Kiku kept his face neutral the entire time. “I can not control where my family goes - that is up to them. If you have an issue, perhaps you should bring it up with them or the authorities - I don’t see them very often anyway.”  


“You do see them, I know you do.”  


“Not in the past few months, Yao. They have their missions - who am I to stop them?”  


I fiddled with the book in my hands, clearly not eavesdropping. Clearly. If it was family issues, or some sort of family rivalry like I was once told about, I understood the dilemma. My family was already large and our coven even larger. Allistor, Conner, Dylan, myself, and by extension - Peter - are suppose to expand and protect the coven, although it has become harder to do so each generation. Hunters have lowered everyone’s numbers significantly, leaving dozens of stranger covens to join together and blur the lines between families… which in turn causes an awful lot of trouble for choosing the next head of the coven. While I was away, however, it would just be my brothers who had to deal with any tension. I thought I should write them one of these days; it had been some time since any of us talked. Not that we especially got along with each other.  


Watching the Kiku and Yao passive aggressively argue back and forth with smiles on their faces was starting to grow a bit terrifying. A shadow quickly swept over my spot on the grass.  


From an umbrella.  


“Hey Arthur?”  


I looked up. “Alfred?”  


He kept his umbrella very low to his head, holding it close to the top. His plaid shirt had its sleeves all the way down, tightly cuffed to his wrists, and half tucked into the jeans he wore. He looked extremely uncomfortable and immensely tired - graying eyes behind the lens of his glasses.  


Turning gently in the grass, I pushed my stuff into my bag. “Are you okay?”  


“Can we talk?” he asked, looking at Kiku for a moment before clearing his throat and glancing back at me. “Privately?”  


I looked at Kiku who glanced back - giving Alfred a happy wave and me a knowing look before continuing to nod at whatever Yao was saying. I slipped my bag over my shoulder. Alfred stuck his hand out and I took it as he pulled me up, quickly slipping his hand back under the shade.  
We walked away from the crowds of students. I had to quicken my stride to keep up with the steps that Alfred was taking. We moved to the other side of the main academy building where fewer to no students were; under a large tree whose shadow was thick and secure. Alfred closed the umbrella, wringing it between his hands. The social awkwardness that hung in the air was suffocating.  


“Alfred, what -”  


“I wanted to -”  


“Sorry,” I politely pressed my knuckles to my lips and shifted my weight to one leg. “You go.”  


He cleared his throat again, tucking the umbrella in the crook of his arm as he started rolling his sleeves up and wipe the sweat away. “I, um… I couldn’t sleep this morning after what happened last night; my behavior was,” he scratched at his arm, “it was unacceptable; and I shouldn’t have grabbed your brother like that.”  


My hands drifted to my chest. “Oh,” I said, like an idiot. “That… Peter is okay, you didn’t hurt him.”  


“I could have,” he said. “I would have.”  


“What do you mean?”  


“He opened the lock to the basement and I panicked. People aren’t supposed to be down there…” Alfred’s tone softened to a whisper. “He saw something he shouldn’t have seen and I think I… no, I know I definitely scared him. I probably looked like a monster.”  


“Alfred -”  


“I needed to apologize for that.”  


I paused, looking him over. His already pasty face was sickeningly pale. He fumbled for that small flask from his bag and took a quick sip, tossing it back. A few moments of silence and a slight blush touched his cheeks.  


“You keep staring,” he whispered.  


“You do it to me all the time. Is it weird?”  


“It’s… different.”  


“Well, I accept your apology, but you didn’t have to be a tit and come out in the middle of the sunniest day of the month.” My wand was in my hand and I pointed it at the sky. “Dniw.” A gentle breeze started weaving its way through the low hanging branches of the tree. It rustled our hair and cooled the shade. “You’re ridiculous wearing those clothes in this heat.”  


Alfred blinked. “I didn’t know you could do that,” he said, looking at the space around us as if I had summoned some elemental spirit. “And I told you, I burn easily.”  


“What’s in your flask?” I asked, sitting down on the grass.  


He looked taken aback. His eyes shifted to his bag and back to me twice, mulling over a thought. “It’s… a drink.”  


“Could I have some?” I held out my hand curiously.  


He sat down too, slowly, carefully. “No,” he replied, dragging the N.  


“Oh, well, why not? You’re not a germaphobe,” I pressed. “You somehow still drank after Francis contaminated your ale.”  


Alfred started to grin, catching on to my game. He leaned against the tree trunk, crossing his arms. “You wouldn’t like it.”  


“You don’t know that. Maybe I would.”  


“Mmm, would you though?” He asked, tilting his head. “I think it’s statistically unhealthy for humans to consume it.”  


“It’s statistically unhealthy for humans to consume a lot of things, but we still do it,” I pointed out. Alfred laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.  


“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable around me,” he said sincerely.  


Well, I thought, we’re far past that issue. The sadness that dripped into his voice made my heart ache, and we looked at each other, his eyes doing that thing that made my head spin until he blinked and looked away.  


“I’ve had human friends before and they aren’t always trusting of me after I tell them,” he continued. “I don’t blame them though, it’s really fucked up.” His hand rested on his bag, pulling at the zipper tags. The wind I created continued to softly drift through and around our heads.  


“You always have it with you,” I said. “Since our first class together you had it, and outside my apartment you had it. I briefly thought you were an alcoholic, but you never seem drunk.”  


“No, haha.” He shook his head. “No, it would take a different kind to make me drunk.”  


“Different kind of what?”  


Alfred stared at me, studying my face. I gave him the most earnest, unscared expression I could manage. It was just a flask.  


“Blood,” he said.  


For a moment, and I’m sure Alfred caught every second of it, my face scrunched, like I did not believe him. But why wouldn’t I believe him. An encyclopedia of species flipped through my mind page by page. The umbrella, the night classes, the sharp teeth, the ashen skin - then my stupid brain settled on something entirely.  


“You don’t… sparkle, do you?” I asked, squinting my eyes in judgement.  


If I could take a mental snapshot of his reaction, I would hang it on a wall. He gaped, insulted, and laughed - rolling onto his side. “Fuck no,” he wheezed. “Out in the sun, I would eventually just burst into flames.”  


My laughter immediately subsided. “Sorry, what?”  


His smile didn’t wane however. He sat back up. “I’m a Supra.”  


“A what?”  


“My subclass of vampire. It’s called Supra.”  


I somehow ended up sitting next to him as we talked; I don’t know how that happened.  


“I didn’t know there were subclasses…” I thought aloud. Sure there were different types of magic users, so different types of other species only made sense. “What does being a Supra vampire mean? I don’t know much about vampires in general, save for pop culture.”  


Alfred seemed charmed by my questions; not that the information that there was blood in that flask - and he’d been drinking it countless times in front of me didn’t make me a bit spooked, but it famously keeps vampires alive, and I wouldn’t want him dying - that’s for sure.  


“Supra are mostly from the north - our ancestry is not accustomed to the sun at all, so it’s pretty annoying when we’re in broad daylight,” he said, rubbing his skin. “A few minutes out in the sun in wintertime isn’t so bad though; so I’m looking forward to being out more. Nighttime is cool and all, but when most of your friends are sleeping it gets pretty boring.”  


“I can imagine,” I replied. “Waiting for Peter to wake up sometimes takes ages.”  


“Again, I’m sorry about grabbing him. The basement is a… sacred place for me and I should have had better measures to keep it closed. You magic users are so tricky, you know.”  


“You night students are so mysterious.”  


He smiled. “I hope we can still hang out even though I’m disgusting and allergic to your natural habitat.”  


“You’re an idiot. Of course we can still hang out,” I exclaimed, smacking his shoulder. It was firm. Kinda hurt a little bit.  


He leaned back against the tree trunk once more, looking around at the empty backfields of the academy. “It looks different during the day,” he said. I nodded. His shoulders slumped and a long, raspy breath escaped his lips.  


“You really didn’t get much sleep, did you? I didn’t know vampires needed sleep. I thought you just kinda… stay awake all the time,” I said, shoving my legs out in front of me.  


He shrugged and said, “It’s kinda a trigger when the sun comes up? I think for preservation purposes. I could stay awake for a while, but it sucks after a few days and our bodies need time to heal.” We glanced at each other; a question I didn’t want to ask started to float to the surface. Alfred gave a smug look. “A coffin.”  


“Hm?”  


“I sleep in a coffin.”  


“Oh, I didn’t ask -”  


“Like you weren’t thinking about it.”  


“...Maybe so.”  


“... Was that a meme from the tongue of Arthur Kirkland?”  


I pointed my wand at him. “I am caught up with my 21st century culture, yank.”  


His mouth opened for a second, eyes drifting away from my face as he looked the other way. “Yank,” he muttered. “I’m a yank, you’re damn right. Of course you’d be the one to call me that.” He shook his head, and suddenly I felt like I should be taking offense.  


“Bloody hell is that suppose to mean?” I said, crossing my arms.  


“You’re British.”  


“Yeah?”  


“A regular Brit.”  


“Excuse you, I am a magical Brit.”  


Alfred rubbed his chin. “Fair enough… but you’re still British.”  


“And you’re American.”  


“A very tired American.”  


We both shared a beat of silence before fatigued laughter took hold. Alfred took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes until they were pink. He slowly took his flask out again, and moved so quickly that I only saw it being returned to its pocket. A few minutes later and some more color came to his cheeks. I was beginning to catch on, as confusing as it was.  


“You can… take a nap, you know,” I said. “I was just reading when I was with Kiku, I don’t mind sitting here and continuing my book.” I slid the book out of my bag.  


“I can’t ask you to do that,” he said, holding up his hands.  


“You didn’t - I offered. You know - free will and all that.”  


“You’d still be here when I wake up?” he asked, looking around at the edges of the shadows. “You won’t leave?”  


I made a show of getting hunkered down and comfortable in the shaded circle, out of the bolstering heat. He watched, and a small smile tugged at his lips. He nodded a few times to himself, moving his bag in between us and adjusted his body that he curled against the tree - back to the rest of the world. His arms, once again, crossed around his chest, one tucked under his cheek while the other lay limp over his neck. We exchanged glances one more time before he sighed and closed his eyes.  


“Thanks, Arthur,” he breathed.  


I opened my book once more, skimming over the words as I thought about our conversation. I didn’t expect to be told anything about Alfred today, but a part of me was immensely satisfied with knowing. Knowing especially that he didn’t sparkle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the short chapter! I wanted to make sure I published this on my deadline and I was running out of time! I've been con crunching and will continue to con crunch while writing in between. I expect the next chapter to be out around this day next month! Writing scenes with Alfred and Arthur is really what keeps me going - I could make them talk for hours.  
> Slow burns are just as painful for me as they are for you guys - I just want them to make out already.


	10. Crossed Hearts

I brought a sad pot of Yarrows behind the counter while the couple continued to look around the shop. It was our last pot and the couple was celebrating their first anniversary together. Naturally, I couldn’t give them a half dead plant. From my pocket slipped my wand, warm and at the ready. Charming the plant wasn’t too difficult, and the bloom lasted twice as long as a new flower would. The color became bold and the stems stood upright, allowing the little flowers to float above them like puffy clouds. I walked them back over to the couple and explained the caring process. 

Summer blooms were beginning to go out, and the shop was preparing to switch over to the Autumn plants. It was a busy day for those who wanted the last chance for colorful selections as well as those who wanted the catalog for next season’s. My hair was still wet from the run outside to switch signs around while it sprinkled. It was the most social day I’ve had in the shop since I arrived. The bell on the door rang once more as a young woman hesitantly walked in, staring at the sales and blooms while she fiddled with her fingers. She looked very lost. 

“Do you need help finding something?” I asked, coming over. 

She almost jumped in her skin, but shook it off with a smile and tried to cover her surprise by tangling her hand in her short, cropped hair. “Probably,” she said, her accent soft and foreign. “I’m looking for something for my boyfriend. He told me something very personal recently and I completely made an ass of myself… pardon my french.” 

Yikes. “So, something of an apology?” I asked, looking around the shop. “Getting a man flowers is pretty original - he certainly won’t expect it.” 

“I want him to know I still love him and I hope he’ll forgive me.” 

“Tell me about him,” I said, looking at the flower arrangements we had premade. 

She continued to play at her hair, looking around the shop as if everything we were talking about was a secret. “Well, he’s very generous - and does anything I ask of him even though he doesn’t have to; he’s playful and charming, and makes me feel like I’m a queen. But, um,” she paused, “he’s also very cryptic - not in a _cryptid_ way - of course!” She laughed and I nodded. The strain in her voice was very audible. “Our relationship is sort of on the downlow - my roommates don’t know about it. Sort of an Aladdin coming to see Jasmine - sort of thing.” 

“Climbing onto your balcony to see you?” I asked, raising a brow. I kinda knew that feeling. 

“I suppose you could say that.” 

I pushed some arrangements aside, deep in thought. Secret romance, apologies, and some mysterious guy this young woman is infatuated with whose feeling were hurt hard enough that she’s getting him flowers. I tapped my nail against the counter. “Well, a single rose is worth a thousand words, but I have a feeling we can get more creative. Daisies are symbols of keeping secrets and a loyal type of love - if you think he is afraid that you’ll out him of his… personal thing.” 

“That sounds sweet, I didn’t know that,” the girl said, lowering her hands. “Oh, I’m Jeanne, by the way.” She held out her hand. “We may be at this for a little while.” 

“Arthur,” I said, taking it. “Jeanne… That’s… a French name, right?” 

“Oui, je suis québécois,” she replied with a smile. “I’m here on a visa for quite a while.” 

“Are you attending school?” 

She hummed. “Working mostly, well, interning. Francis and I met near where I work - he lives by the water and we met on the bridge.” She cupped her face, reminiscing. 

I may have thrown up a bit in my mouth. “His name is Francis?” I asked, trying to keep composure. “He, um, doesn’t happen to be French as well, hm?” 

“He’s from Brittany. He tells the greatest stories of France’s history and from his travels,” Jeanne replied, unfazed by my perplexed expression. 

“Ah, well, if he’s that French, do you think he’d like some iris’ as well? Flower of France, well meaning friendship or faith… Would likely compliment the daisies rather well and add some color to the arrangement.” 

“I… I think that would be fitting… Yes, I’d love that. Isn’t it a lily though?” 

“Technically by the name, sure, but florists agree that the shape of the fleur-de-lis is definitely a natural iris shape, rather than a fancy, over the top lily. Plus, lilies are known funeral flowers, and that is certainly not appropriate for this occasion.” 

She laughed and set her purse on the counter as I went in back and collected some of the low stock we kept of on-request flowers. It was a small bouquet, but appropriate and dainty. I plucked a pen and small note card from a stack and attached it to the ribbon. 

“You can write something if you’d like,” I said, handing her the pen. She began to jot down some french on the paper. I rubbed my neck. “Um, and I’m no love specialist in the slightest, but I think this Francis will forgive you. Everything you said, it sounds like he loves you very much. I believe what you’re doing shows some -” 

“BDE?” she said so suddenly that I choked on my words. 

“I - I was going to say responsibility, but… sure, yeah I guess that too.” 

Jeanne covered her laugh with the back of her hand. “Sorry, I learned that from a text Francis was sending his friend. Americans come up with the most ridiculous memes. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

“No, no, you’re fine,” I chuckled, “That… that sounds like an American I know as well.” 

She paid for the arrangement and looked at her note card once more. With a smile, she shrugged and asked, “You don’t happen to make love potions too, do you?” 

“No,” I lied. “You’ll be alright. Florists’ intuition.” 

“Thank you, Arthur.” Jeanne held up the bouquet in the small thank-you gesture and turned, disappearing outside into the misty street. 

I sat on my stool, watching the other customers browse. Jeanne was cute, and not at all what I expected Francis to be dating. She’s human; he’s… really not. Thinking to how worked up Francis was about whatever they discussed, he truly does care about her. Surely it wasn’t uncommon for supernatural beings to inter-date with others. Witches crossed that line quite often from our kind being a mix of human and inhuman. 

I nibbled on my pen. I hoped nothing negative would come from this. 

 

It would be that very evening during class that a sudden shift in mood occured. I arrived a few minutes early, having eaten a small dinner, walking in with an evening cup of tea. The professor pointed out the pile where students were to submit homework as well as where he’d be sitting for pronto office hours before class started. I sat on my jacket and let my bookback gently lean against the stool. Antonio would arrive not soon after me - still talking on the phone as he sat down. 

“Sí, podemos salir esta noche. Sí, sí, está bien. Yo también te quiero, cariño. Bye, bye,” he whispered, pulling his phone from his ear and turning to me as he placed it on the desk. “Arthur, my favorite Englishman, how was your day?” 

“Well, it mostly rained, and I worked the vast majority of it,” I said. “But all in all, not a bad afternoon.” I doodled in my notebook some more. “And how was your evening?” 

“I mean, I can go out in the day too, you know,” he said. 

“Alright, how was your morning and evening then?” I corrected, rolling my eyes. 

He grinned. “Well, I went on a walk this morning before the sun rose, brought Lovino a cup of coffee before his shift today; I fought a cat that looked at me funny from a porch, played some football with my sister, Castilla; took a nap on a hammock, and right now I just talked with Lovino for the past two hours. It was a pretty good day!” 

Two hour phone calls. My soul could never. Even my calls with family never go over twenty minutes. 

“Making plans?” I guessed. My Spanish was not up to date. 

He nodded, pulling out his binder. “He wants to check out this show tonight in the city, so it’s my treat. I do get unlimited free pasta and pizza, so it’s the least I can do for him.” 

“That’s sweet,” I said. “I hope you have fun.” 

A few of our classmates giggled in unison as Francis swayed into the room, his tail noticabley out - moving with him underneath his long, linen shawl cardigan, irises and daisies braided into his hair. 

“Dress-code, Mr. Bonnefoy, put your prehensile appendages away,” the professor called out, looking over another students shoulder. 

Alfred followed directly after, hair tucked into a slightly damp beanie, drying off his glasses with a small cloth which he then shoved into his pocket. He looked fiercely amused. They went to their desk and sat down - or rather, slid thoughtfully into his seat in Francis’ case - as Antonio and I spun to greet them. 

“Someone looks happy,” Antonio said, poking Francis’ arm playfully. 

“That’s an understatement,” Alfred replied, going through his bag to pull out his pens. 

Francis rested his chin in his hands. “Elle m'aime. Mon cher m'aime vraiment. Elle m'a donné des cadeaux et des baisers et nous devons faire l'amour passionné ce soir… Donc, première -” 

“TMI, dude, we don’t… they don’t need to know any of what you’re going to say,” Alfred interrupted. “I have that picture in my head already, thank you.” 

“What happened?” I asked, propping my pencil on my ear, feigning ignorance. 

Alfred set his elbow on the table, pulling his beanie slightly forward. “His girlfriend, the one who he was crying about the other day, yeah?, got him flowers and essentially asked to stay together… as well as saying some sappy French things. I was in the car, I didn’t hear all of it. But they started making out on the sand, and I just spaced out for the following ten minutes.” 

“Elle est venue chez moi. Elle est venue à moi. Comme c'est romantique?” Francis mumbled, face blushing. 

“Are you going to speak English any time soon, man?” 

“Non.” 

“Okay.” Alfred looked at me with a stupid smile and shook his head. “Girls, I guess.” 

I hummed. “I suppose so.” It felt a little good to be responsible for the apology gift. Our looks lingered a little longer when Alfred didn’t immediately turn away or say anything else. Given, neither did I. He looked much better than he did the other day when we sat beneath the tree. “Sleep well?” 

He blinked, like he was coming out of a daze, and nodded. “Y-yeah, I slept through last night too. That happens… not often, um, once in a while…?” 

“Rarely?” 

He snapped. “That’s the word! It rarely happens. I almost woke up in the middle of the day.” Lowering his voice as the professor stood up from his desk, he added, “it’s like playing Russian roulette with the window shades.” 

I managed to get away with sitting with my legs to the side of the desk, making it a bit easier to speak to the group, but also make it seem like I was paying attention. Francis was spending his entire class time braiding his hair some more and playing with the position of the flowers, openly taking selfies and sending them to who I knew was Jeanne. Alfred stared ahead, glancing over at me when I looked back, his face saying “this is the friend I have chosen for some reason” and I returned the expression with a shrug. He playfully shrugged back. I turned around again. 

“Êtes-vous deux pour forniquer?” 

There was a loud thump behind me; some students in the class turned around briefly to see Francis rubbing at his leg trying desperately not to curse. Alfred remained apathetic, writing notes as if that was what he was doing the entire time. I wrote down whatever formulas were already written on the board, my face beginning to blush. Some cognates were painfully clear. 

 

When class finally let out, Antonio and Francis were quick to call up their SO’s, practically evaporating from the room with a skip and flourish. Alfred was shaking his head as he collected his things and tossed his bag over his shoulder. His bangs poked out into the air a little when he slid his beanie to the center of his head. 

“Hey,” he said, making the one step forward to my desk where I picked up my bag. “My defense against the dark arts class was cancelled - do you mind if I walk you out?” 

“Your defense…” I blinked. “Oh, har har, aren’t you funny,” I said, turning and walking away so he didn’t see me suppressing a laugh. He said it with such sincerity. “You wouldn’t know dark arts if it slapped you in the face.” 

“It’s true, that’s my class.” 

“I’m not falling for it. You’re a vampire, you don’t use magic,” I said, “at least, not in the way most magic users do… I think.” 

“The professor wears a turban too. Probably Voldemort. I called it first day of class,” Alfred added as we walked into the stone hallway and up the stairs into the main courtyard. “How long is your wand?” 

I looked at him. Then replied, “nine inches.” 

“Mine’s thirty.” 

The laugh escaped. I shoved at his arm, grinning. “You’re a bloody idiot,” I said, adjusting my bag. 

He laughed, letting my shove move him to the side a few feet. “Yeah, but my class did get canceled. Impromptu retreat, I think the prof said? Caught a flight out for the weekend.” 

I kicked at a pebble as we walked through the mist towards where I caught the bus out. “So, what kind of classes do you take anyway?” 

“How to appear devilishly good looking.” 

“Alfred.” 

“You’re right, that comes naturally.” 

“Oh my God.” 

“I’ve been spending way too much time with Francis,” he said. “Most classes are kinda like gym… some are a bit more tailored towards my kind; like the ones you take as a witch. Some history classes too.” 

“What kind of history?” 

“Ah, like, generic. World history and stuff. I’ve been around, but a guy can’t remember everything that happens everywhere,” he replied with a light shrug. We walked uphill. 

“Been around?” I repeated. The bus light appeared in the distance. “How old are you exactly?” 

He gave a smug look, rolling back onto his heels. He looked at the bus and quickly back to me. “Oh, I wanted to give you something.” He scrambled through his pockets and pulled out a paper. The bus stopped and opened the door. I looked at the driver and double took at Alfred. 

“I have a schedule to run!” the driver shouted from his seat. 

Alfred looked up, grabbing a pen from behind his ear. “Can you wait a moment?” he asked. The driver stared at him, then slowly began to nod. “Thank you.” Alfred scribbled on the paper. I watched the bus driver who sat back in a dazed stupor. “Okay,” Alfred said, handing the paper to me. “It’s my number… to my cell. My phone number.” 

I took the torn out piece of notebook paper and the ten digit code. “You could’ve just typed it into my phone, you know.” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to pressure you like that, so,” he started to saunter back, hands in his pockets. “Your call if you want to share yours.” I thought I saw a wink when I stepped on the bus, and he started his walk back down the path. 

Slowly turning around, I looked at the driver. He was short, balding, and stubble ran down his cheeks. His grip on the wheel was loose, like he was daydreaming. “Sir?” I said, tilting my head to see his face. “Sir, we can, uh… we can go now.” 

“Hm?” He stared at me a moment, as if waking up, blinked, and scowled. “Get in your seat, I have a schedule to run.” The engine kicked as he shifted back into drive, and I quietly sat down, opening the paper up again to look at the number. 

 

Picking up Peter from Abby’s and getting home to feed ourselves, get him to shower, getting myself to shower, and both into pajamas left me exhausted. As he scrambled slowly up the ladder into bed, I went around the house and closed the curtains, clicked off the lights and led the charger cord up into the bed where I let my phone charge. 

I stared at the ceiling. Peter shifted in the bed. 

I drew circles on the ceiling. Heavier rain began to fall. 

I pressed my palm against the ceiling’s grooves. 

Sighing, I reached over and took my phone out from under the pillow, adjusting the cord off of my face. Messenger to new message to entering my newest contact to my fingers hovering over the keys. Why did he leave me to initiate conversation again? 

_“Hey,”_ I typed. _“It’s Arthur.”_ Send. I was almost tempted to add “from chemistry” or “the witch” or something to make sure - 

Buzz. _“hey! Wow that was fast, i didn’t realize you’d miss me that much :p”_

I scoffed. _“I don’t miss you, it just isn’t fair that you gave me your # and don’t have mine. Figured in case you needed help with your defense against the dark arts training.”_

There was a minute or two that passed with no response. I bit my lip, letting the phone rest on my chest, blocking the light. 

Buzz buzz. _“sorry there was this HUGE puddle. Needed to splash.”_ Pause. _“Help me obiwan kenobi, you’re my only ho”_ Pause. _“That was a star wars reference”_

I rolled to my side so that the light of the screen and my consistent tapping didn’t wake Peter. _“Please don’t take up comedy.”_

_“Francis told me the same thing after i already tried stand up. I’ll tell gil to burn the video”_

_“Francis gone to see Jeanne, I assume?”_

_“...How’d you know her name?”_

My soul snickered at the incoming reaction as I admitted that I worked at the flower shop that she had come by. Learning the whole situation from her point of view and how we spent the couple of minutes picking the right flowers. 

_“You’re a florist?? why does that explain so much but yet so little”_

_“I just work at a flower shop, that doesn’t make me a florist.”_

Photo attachment. _“what does this flower mean??”_

I squinted at the shaded picture, figuring Alfred was just outside in the rain doing random things. It was a small flower with a larger, multicolor leaves - definitely more of a ground covered plant. _“That looks like Jacob’s Ladder? Are you in the woods??”_

_“Ah who cares where i am - what’s it mean? It looks cool”_

_“Uhhh I think it’s the stairway to heaven, although I’m not sure where that vineration came from. Probably something Christian.”_

There was a longer pause before he replied, _“okay cool, i’ll have to look into it... What are you doing up so late? Not that i’m complaining”_

_“I’m laying in bed waiting for sleep to take me. Or death. Either/or is fine.”_

A small flurry of laughing emojis made their way into the chat. I blinked heavily at the floating ellipses as he was about to reply. I shook my head slightly to stay awake. 

Photo attachment. _“Whats this flower mean?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yawn! I wrote the first part before I went to a convention, thinking I wrote so much more than I did and I came back only to see I wrote a dang paragraph! My computer has been having such a tough time trying to keep up with saving all my edits, I had to refresh my google doc four times today just while writing the texting. Apparently google gets mad if you don't keep proper punctuation, so I tried my best to do what I could. Alfred ain't got time to type those capital letters. 
> 
> I hope to finish one more chapter before I head back down to Washington DC. This upcoming semester is going to be one of my hardest, but it's also my last year, so... got to get the hard classes out of the way. But spring should be easy sailing with a lot more time to write!! Thanks for sticking with me, you guys! It's been over a year!!


	11. No Gods, and Precious Few Heroes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I moved back to Washington DC for my last year of university and everything is so chaotic! I wrote a longer chapter than usual to combine two smaller ones I had planned. Even I get impatient with slow burns, I just want them to make out already. Some big plots are going to start making their way into the story, so stay tuned! Thanks for sticking around and reading along! Enjoy!  
> If you make art or anything on Tumblr or the sort, let me know! And I'd love to see it and support you!

My cheek was vibrating. Another day where I’ve fallen asleep while on my phone, resulting finding it in various places. Once under my shirt, another time it had crept down to mid thigh. It continued to vibrate, unlike my alarms or text messages. I fumbled with the device and smacked it to my ear. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi, is this Arthur Kirkland?” 

“Yes, it is.” 

“Hello, this is Tino from your student body government. I received your number from Kiku - I hope you don’t mind me calling!” He sounded cheerful over the phone. “Anyway, sorry for calling so early. I wanted to briefly speak to you about a new organization we’re working on that allows family members of students who need caring to attend the academy with their siblings and spend the day or night with trained individuals! I met your brother when he was with Kiku one afternoon and realized there’s actually quite a few students whose families need a daycare!” 

I blinked and looked over at Peter; he curled his pillow close to his face. “That’s very nice of you guys,” I replied softly, trying to wake myself up a bit more. 

“We’d feed them and provide different lessons throughout the day varying from academic to social. If later on you run into Kiku or myself - would you mind answering a few survey questions to help us improve on this idea?” 

“Sure thing, I don’t mind at all,” I said. I tilted the phone away from my mouth and yawned. “I’ll be on campus sooner or later. I have a club that starts today I believe so if you or Kiku find me, I’ll have time then.” 

“Excellent, thank you very much for your time, Mr. Kirkland!” 

“Of course.” 

“Hei hei!” 

“G’bye.” I murmured, squinting as I hung up. It was humid in the apartment; I could feel the sweat bead on my forehead. Shimmying my wand out from under the pillow, I pointed it at the floor fan in the corner of the room. “Nrut no… hgih.” The machine clicked twice to the highest setting - it took a moment for any breeze to make it up to the bed. Not that I could enjoy it for long; I had classes to get ready for. 

 

Magic club met today. It took place in a large room with grand windows - clearly meant for a bigger class or group when in regular use. Some of the students were hanging light shades over the windows, casting the room in a slight shadow. Others pushed the desks and tables to the sides of the room, keeping a few up for students setting up tarot cards, crystal balls, or small cauldrons. Many students brought blankets to lay on the floor; they varied in designs from astrological to plain to nerdy. I remember quite a few of the faces in the room; most were in the office when we were given the panic button chains. Mine rested inside of bag, hopefully to never be used. Besides witches that I recognized, others bore marks of fae, and others of sorcerers, and a handful of students I simply couldn’t place. Some of the students were talking about yet another lynching that happened a few days prior. Human ashes were found near by a small forest fire that made the neighboring state’s news. Although the mention of the cause was left vague and the belongings of the witch were never mentioned. 

I set my bag aside and pulled my wand from my jacket pocket. Everyone else didn’t seem to hide theirs away - in fact many were admiring others. I stared at my wand. It was pretty beautiful in its own rustic way. 

“Your wand reminds me of Autumn,” someone said, looking over. “Makes me wish Halloween was already here.” 

“Just a few more weeks!” another said. 

“Who wants their cards read?” someone shouted nearby. Their skin had shifted to a cool blue tone immediately upon entering the club room. They looked up at me and smiled. “You’re the one with the changeling brother! I remember seeing you guys in front of the school that day! Hey, free card reading on me, yeah?” 

We sat down on their blanket as they pulled out their deck. I took a few deep breaths and waited patiently for them to ask me to cut the deck and set it before the reading began. 

“Any question you want answered for this session?” they asked, looking up at the set pile. 

“How my future this next year or so is going to play out. The next four seasons maybe,” I replied and they nodded. The cards were pulled. And slowly, flipped over. 

“Okay, the ten of wands… in this position, it represents an upcoming burden and responsibilities that may require a lot of hard work and effort on your part. It’s going to cause a lot of stress - either for you, for others, or maybe both. But it also has a symbolism for achievement. So after you work through the burden, you’re going to have that sense of accomplishment having gotten whatever goal you’re after. 

“The knight of cups in the upright position is kinda a love life card. It’s quite literally the knight in shining armor. Be that knight you or someone else. It’s a card of romance, charm, and imagination. Quite the good one to get, and right for the winter season. 

“Three of swords like this may seem iffy after that love life card, but bare with me. It means painful separation, sorrow, and heartbreak - but this can refer to anything like a material item, saying goodbye to someone, but everything will be alright in the end, and they can come back. 

“And the tower for summer… interesting. Upright like this is honestly the better side. It can refer to disaster and sudden change, upheaval and revelation. Don’t take disaster literally, it’s like the death card which refers to being reborn. Something substantial is going to change - good or bad. But you’ll find meaning in it when it happens, and work it through.” 

Readings were always up for interpretation, and with each card, I tapped my wand against my lips. It was an even reading - different types of arcana for each season meant my whole self was going to be challenged. They asked if I wanted another reading on a different topic and I shook my head. 

“Thank you very much. I haven’t gotten a reading in what seems like ages!” 

They smiled. “You’re welcome to come back again for another one! Our lives and energy are always changing!” 

 

Peter’s skin was shifting back to its blue hue when I picked him up from Abby’s. He talked about the Halloween movies that were starting to play on the television, and the pumpkin designs he scribbled out onto a printed sheet of paper. I looked at the various scary faces and mean grimaces. The way Jack o’lanterns should be. He beamed at the compliments. We shuffled across the street as I told him about my time in the club with the other fae and witches. I told him about the other changeling and his face lit up. Every step up the apartment’s steps was another question about what they looked like, what they could do, how old they were… 

“Peter,” I laughed, “that’s enough, I can’t describe everything.” I dug through my jacket and pulled out the keys, opening the locks to our room. “I have a question for you though. What do you think about going to a daycare with a bunch of other kids like you?” 

“Like me?” he asked running inside as soon as the door opened. 

“Well, I’m sure some would be fae like you; maybe some other types of chimera. You may make some new friends…” I shut the door and set my bag down on the kitchen counter. A small letter was on the floor by the mailslot. 

Peter rolled onto the couch. “What about Abby? I like her. She’s cool and doesn’t yell at me for making mistakes.” 

I bent down and picked up the envelope. “I’m sure we’d still hang out with her, Peter. But you don’t have to decide yet - it’s just an idea a schoolmate had.” 

“Hmph,” he mumbled. He took a pillow and squashed it with his hands. “What’s that?” 

“Something from home,” I replied, turning the letter over in my hand. The Royal Mail postage stamp, the tiny printed address of our Windsor cottage, the old crest of our coven pressed into the sealing wax on the other side. It smelled like home. I gently cut the seal and flipped the envelope over to read. 

_“Our dear Arthur -- we miss y-”_

I closed the letter, staring at the wall with it crumpled slightly in my hand. My free hand went into my jacket and grabbed for my wand. Charmed letters were never good, and reading the signal sentence made my tongue sour. Peter wandered over by my leg to try and see it. It only took a warm touch of my wand for the written words to shift and change to their original meaning. My back felt stiff waiting for the pieces of the puzzle to stop moving. 

_“Arthur, it is with urgent need we write you about the loss of our dear Allistor. He was slain in a duel with the coven Belmont in a matter of honor -”_

Suddenly the presence at my feet became all too real - looking up at me patiently, unaware, none the wiser. The feeling where your hands go numb, your nose starts to sting as if you’re inhaling acid, making your eyes water and your brow twitch; your breath hitches and your chest compresses itself until the liquid piling up in your tear ducts just begin to overflow from the sheer pain your body thinks it’s in. I swallowed, and continued to look over the rest of the letter, slowly bending down to Peter’s height. 

_“With prices of funeral arrangements and payments towards the Belmonts, we ask that you submit your annual contribution towards our family posthaste. The items mentioned in Allistor’s Will for you and young Peter will be delivered shortly when appropriate. Maius sé gyden bebierge ou. Mum.”_

Peter curled his arms around my neck, looking from the unmistakable script of our mother to the tears streaking down my cheeks. I knew he could read most words, especially names and the old English blessing our mother always wrote. His face scrunched as he pressed on me. 

“Why are you crying, Arthur? What happened to Allistor?” he asked. The hurt in his voice transparent. 

“Bloody shits be damned,” I breathed, crumpling the letter into a ball. I meant to hurl it across the room, but the paper never left my fist. Asking for money so casually by a letter instead of calling like a normal person; describing Allistor’s death like it was a simple Sunday afternoon drive… 

My eldest brother was dead and Peter and I weren’t even invited to the funeral. 

“Arthur!” Peter shouted, shaking my shoulder. “You’re scaring me! What’s wrong?” 

I tucked my arm under his legs and picked him up. He clung to my neck as I walked across the room, throwing the letter on my desk as I jumbled through the drawers. My account book was practically useless - any deposits into my bank account were quickly taken away by groceries, rent, bus rides, and the underpriced fee I give to Abby for watching Peter. Any savings I had were minimum - home would be scraping the barrel of my account. 

“Fuck,” I hissed, throwing it back into the drawer to kick it closed. The echo reverberated around the room. Peter started crying. I walked to the fridge - condiments and juice. “Fuck!” The fridge door slammed closed. “Goddammit - I- I can’t do this!” 

Peter’s grip around my neck tightened as my mind swirled. “S-stop it, Arthur!” he said between hiccups. I paced the room with him on my hip. “Where’s Allistor! I want Allistor!” 

“He’s not here, Peter!” I shouted back. I pulled out my wand and briefly thought to just off myself before using it to turn on the lights in the apartment. 

“I want him here!” 

“He can’t!” 

“Why not?” 

“Because,” I said, looking outside the glass terrace door. The sky was darkening and full of clouds. “Because he’s dead, Peter,” I whispered. I leaned against the glass and lowered us both to the floor. “Allistor is dead.” 

Peter was quiet, save for the sniffling and occasional hiccup. He rubbed his nose and picked at the points of his ears. I let him adjust himself on my lap in silence. I quickly flicked away my own tears that began to burn at my skin. “But… he’s not even old. He’s the strongest and… and… he always came back home okay after he leaves. He can’t be dead,” he exclaimed, pressing his blue hands against my face. 

I cupped my hands over his, just taking in the warmth his small palms gave off. “I wish that was the case this time, Peter. I really do,” I said, “but he was killed and he isn’t coming back.” 

“Who killed him?” 

“Other witches.” 

“Why would a witch kill another witch? We’re the same! We should be friends!” 

“I don’t know, Peter, some people just… I don’t know.” 

“But Allistor is a witch! You’re a witch! You wouldn’t kill him!” 

“Of course not, Peter, of course not - but this is different -” 

“How is it different?” 

My heart was racing. “I don’t know! Stop asking me, Peter! I. Don’t. Know. I’ll never know! He’s dead, okay? He isn’t coming home. We’re not going to see him again!” 

My brother’s eyes moved rapidly, overlooking my face. I must’ve looked insane. His chest heaved and a new swell of tears fell over his cheeks and down his chin. He moved off of me, and with my slow reaction, escaped my lap and ran into the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a sturdy thump. I let my head fall back to the glass, digging my fingers into the rough of my hair. After minutes of isolation, listening to the cars pass by below, I retrieved my phone from my bag and dialed Kiku. 

“Hello, Arthur! How are you this evening?” 

“Could you come over?” 

 

I took a long drag outside on the terrace while Kiku sat with my brother, coaxing him to come out of the bathroom. I barely ever smoked nowadays, though it was something of a common habit back in England when I was a teenager. Packs were ridiculously expensive in America - so continuing the habit was out of the question. Still, I kept a pack tucked away in the back of the bookcase for such occasions. Thunder rolled in the distance, but the rain hadn’t started yet. The moisture in the air dissipated in the hazy blue smoke as I exhaled. With a hand on my forehead, I rubbed at the space between my brows. It sounded like Kiku was able to stop the crying coming from the bathroom, but the door remained shut. He wandered to the door, and I heard the light tapping of a finger on the glass. 

“I’m sorry for your loss, Arthur. Family is the hardest to lose,” Kiku said, keeping his tone soft. 

“We weren’t that close,” I replied, bringing what was left of the cigarette to my lips, looking down at the empty street. 

He appeared beside me, staring at my face. I tried not to notice. “Doesn’t make it anymore easy. I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a sibling in such a way. You’re sound to grieve.” 

“You have siblings?” I asked, a bit curious. I coughed trying not to blow the smoke in his face. 

“Quite a few,” he mused, wincing at my wheezing. “We live a long time and keep to ourselves, so not much tragedy has befallen our family. Most things were a very long time ago when people definitely believed we existed.” 

“Unfortunately, witches are frankly exposed to the general public. Duels aren’t commonplace, but traditionally are accepted. It’s Allistor’s fault he challenged the other coven… or accepted a challenge. I… didn’t get much information from my family.” A large raindrop fell from the roof and extinguished the tip of the cigarette with a heavy poof. I stared at it, then up to the roof. “Are you fucking for real?” 

Kiku laughed, covering his mouth with his hand. “I’m sorry your luck is unbalanced today.” He looked around at the other terraces in the neighborhood - empty and devoid of others wanting to avoid the incoming thunderstorm. With a quick snap of his fingers, a small flame hovered above his nail. “Here,” he said, bringing it to the butt of the cigarette until it began to burn again. 

I stared at him as he concentrated - tall, pointed, and arched white ears sprouted from his head almost instantly, and disappeared just as fast when the flame went out. I don’t think I blinked once as I took another long and slow drag. Kiku looked at me smugly, a look I haven’t seen from him before. “I had a lighter inside,” I said, making a mental checklist of things my new friends do that define their chimera type. 

“I know you’re always wondering,” he said, leaning on the railing with me as the rain trickled over town. “I can help you make something for dinner for Peter if you aren’t hungry. Your cabinets look very sad.” 

“I guess I can put on some tea,” I replied, finishing the cigarette and crushing it beneath my foot. 

 

I skipped my morning classes. Laying in bed as the storm rumbled outside, I couldn’t will myself to get up, dressed, and listen to professors talk for hours when I wouldn’t listen anyway. My motivation to simply get up to pee didn’t exist. I just listened to the fan across the room and held Peter to my chest. He came out of the bathroom late that night, coaxed with dinner and a need to be hugged, spouting old gaelic that we only spoke at home when the whole family was over. I tried to keep my mind at bay - thinking about home now only made my eyes water, and crying in front of my little brother was uncomfortable. Sometimes being the older sibling sucked. The rain patted against the glass. The shades would brighten every few minutes with the flashes of lightning. It was nostalgic and unwelcome for once. I didn’t want to hear any of it. I knew I’d have to work longer shifts at work and appeal to Abby for more help. Time at the apartment with Peter would be minimum. 

Peter whimpered in his sleep, pushing his face against my chest. I blinked wearily and thought back to the songs Allistor would sing to him when he was younger, before the damn Scot left for his home in Edinburgh. 

“So… farewell to the heather in the glen… they cleared us off once, and they’d do it all again… for they still prefer sheep to thinkin’ men - but the men who think like sheep are even better,” I sang in a soft whisper. “There’s nothing much to choose, between the old laird and the new… they still don’t give a damn for the likes of me and you. Just mind you pay your rent to the factor when it’s due… and mind your bloody manners when you pay…” 

My voice quivered as a tear crossed over my nose to the pillow. Peter sniffled under the blanket. 

“For there’s no gods… and there’s precious few heroes… but there’s plenty in the dole of the land o’ the leal. And it’s time now to sweep the future clear… of the lies of a past we know was never real…” 

I can’t remember how many verses I whispered to him, nor if I got them all right, but I was nearing the end when the sudden buzz from my phone startled me out of my thoughts. It was under my pillow and easy to reach, and I waited a minute before another text buzzed through. A message bubble with a few emojis - a school, flag of Japan, and a very defined frowny face next to a question mark - followed by actual English. 

_“heard you aren’t in school today. You okay?”_

Alfred. 

I inched my other hand free to reach the keypad, the light absolutely blinding me. 

_“Sick,”_ I typed. _“Preferred not to contaminate the academy with human disease.”_

The round bubble of dots immediately appeared. 

_“Oh no! I can bring you your homework if you want! I’m on my way to campus anyway to talk to some profs”_ A pause. The dots appeared then disappeared. 

_“You don’t have to go out of your way like that.”_

_“I’m not! Plus, I can make you what my ma used to make when I got sick. Kiku says you don’t have food”_

Friendship be damned. 

_“Okay,”_ I typed after a moment. 

I remained in bed for a while. Eventually getting up to use the bathroom and brush my teeth, I stayed in my pajamas as ‘sick’ people do. I wrapped myself in a blanket and laid on the couch, pressing my cheek against the cushions. I really needed a whisky or even a cider. Peter remained in bed the whole time. I inched him my laptop to watch things if he woke up, and after an hour or two, I did hear Youtube play. A buzz at the phone near the door startled me. 

“Hello?” 

“Howdy! God, you sound like shit.” 

“Mm thank you…” I pressed the open button for the apartment building. “You can come up.” 

I barely had a moment to look at myself in the mirror before there was a knock on the door. Jeez, he was fast. I reached for the doorknob and pulled it open, looking up at Alfred - who wasn’t wet from the rain in the slightest, yet carried no umbrella. He did, however, carry a few thermoses and a bag of what looked like vegetables in addition to his school bag. So many people showing up to my place with food. 

“Hey,” I said, rubbing my face. “Thanks for dropping by.” 

“It’s no problem,” he said, his chipper voice countered the strange way his face looked today. Almost similar to the night I first met him - paler, shadowed. He squinted at me, like he did when I bashed my knees in. “So, sick, huh?” 

“... Kinda.” 

“Not the body kind; your lymph nodes aren’t swollen.” 

“Why are you x-ray visioning my body?” 

“I’m not!” he protested, wincing at how loud he was. “It’s your blood - it’s just… normal… I don’t… x-ray people… although that would be cool.” 

I sighed quietly through my nose. Leaving the door open, I walked back to where I left the blanket on the couch. “Well, it isn’t exactly the body sick, or even the mind sick. More… emotional, I guess.” 

I glanced back over. He still stood in the doorway, looking at me patiently. We gawked at each other awkwardly until he whispered sarcastically, “are you going to invite me in?” 

Standing back up, I shuffled back to the door, holding the edge in my hand. “Maybe. Would you like me to?” 

“That’s up to you, man. I can’t make you. I do have food though.” 

What a hard bargain. “Fine,” I said. “Come in with your food.” 

He smiled, taking the edge of the door from me and stepping inside, turning around to close it himself. I never had him alone in the apartment before. The only other person who spent time with me in here was Kiku, and that was simply a friendship dynamic. 

Not that I was crushing on Alfred. 

It was just different. 

I really needed ale. 

“So,” he said, setting his things on my kitchen counter. “I premade some stuff - I’d tell you I’m not the greatest cook, but I can make this soup in my sleep. My ma made it whenever winter would roll around and the whole house would be sick as unvaccinated people would be. Always did the trick… even when we weren’t ill - it just tasted like heaven. Though, I’m not my ma, so it’ll likely just taste like stew.” 

“Your mum sounds like she was quite resilient,” I commented, helping him take the tomatoes, ham, onions, carrots, and turnips from the bag. 

“Yeah… she was,” he replied, quiet for a moment before he patted the thermoses. “I pre-boiled the beef and barley - they just need to simmer with the other stuff.” 

“Do you need help cutting anything?” I offered. “I don’t want to ruin the recipe though - I’ve been told I’m a terrible cook.” 

He chuckled. “I have yet to meet a terrible cook and I’ve tasted many different dishes. I’d be happy for your help. You got knives?” 

We set up the saucepan and cutting boards to get everything going. It was a bit late for lunch, and way too early for dinner, but Alfred continued to call the meal dinner regardless. We diced the vegetables slowly, Alfred pointing out how to get the correct size when I cut them too large. He was a maniac with the knife; the clicking of metal to board was swift and steady. I watched and tried to replicate his motion for two or three slices, until the sensation in my index finger went hot and began to sting. 

Alfred immediately cupped the diced onions and brought them to his nose, covering his lower face with the potent vegetable. His eyes closed and he stepped away from me as I quickly reached for a paper towel to press to my bloody fingertip. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice muffled. 

“I’m… fine,” I said, putting pressure on it. “It’s small.” I looked up as his shoulders stiffened. “Are the onions because…?” 

“Yes,” he said. 

“Right, right… um… let me just bandage this,” I said, mind scattering. I scampered to the bathroom and rummaged through the first aid supplies, finding some neosporin and a waterproof band-aid. For good measure, I just sprayed my hand with rubbing alcohol. Peaking my head out of the bathroom, Alfred had lowered his handful of onions, looking quite upset with himself. 

“Sorry,” he said when I walked over. 

I blinked. “What for?” 

He tossed the vegetables into the pan and let them simmer. “Very few species live off of a cousin race’s blood. Vampires, excuse the pun, actually suck.” 

“You don’t suck.” 

“Mmmm, no, I kinda do. I’m the kind of being people would call a monster.” 

I looked at him and shook my head knowingly. “Witches can be monsters too,” I said. He looked back at me. “My, um, my older brother was killed in a duel the other day, and uh… my family only sent us a letter to inform us about his funeral.” 

“Fuck, that… shit, um, I’m sorry. That’s… fucked up,” he stuttered. “Losing a brother is hard, and, um, that shit never leaves you.” He placed the cover on the pan and turned around. “It’s going to be a while… do you want to sit down?” 

We sat, and I burritoed myself back up again on one end of the couch while Alfred sat on the other. “You sound like you speak from experience,” I noted. 

“My younger brother was killed… a while back,” he said, taking off his glasses to absentmindedly clean them. “I still see him though, like a ghost that just follows me.” He shivered. “Ghosts probably scare me the most.” 

Having Allistor follow me around as a ghost would probably also be a nightmare, though more in the loud, Scottish swearing, opinionated ghost-peanut-gallery. 

“You’re afraid of ghosts?” 

“Yeah? It isn’t like you can punch them to defend yourself!” He draped his arm over the top of the sofa and sighed. “Anyway, ah, death is something that never leaves you, even when you move on with your life. It’s good to keep them in your thoughts though, and, I’m going to guess you don’t pray, but even that helps sometimes… whoever your god is.” 

“Goddess, but go off.” 

He cracked a smile. “This is a solemn time, Arthur, don’t go making puns with religion. Your faith is like… wiccan, right?” 

“Something of the sort, but in retrospect, yeah, I suppose it’s wiccan.” 

“Cool, cool… I don’t think I knew many wiccans… most of my friends back in the day were Protestants… or Quakers… a few Catholics that grew in number when the Irish came over.” He paused. “God, I basically hung out with a bunch of Christians even after I became some satanic looking thing… the irony.” 

“You don’t look satanic, Alfred, jeez.” 

“They do say Lucifer looked pretty damn good for a fallen angel. I can’t remember if I read that in any version of the Bible, but every sculpture of him is gorgeous.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Yeesh, maybe thinking that is a sin. But in terms of vampires, that makes sense.” 

I stared at him, rubbing at my eyes, which had dried up significantly since he arrived. “Hey Alfred… how old are you?” 

The finger on his chin rubbed at the crease below his lips. “Hm?” 

“How old are you?” 

“Like… mentally…?” 

“Like what would you put on a census or something for your age?” 

“Nineteen… maybe twenty? Twenty-one if I’m pushing it and want to drink something legally. How old are you?” 

I watched as whatever age he told me, was exactly how he looked. He didn’t change appearances or anything - but I subconsciously believed him at any age. “I’m twenty-three.” 

“And you’re in school?” 

“Like the academy is like grade school, please.” 

“Okay, yeah, touché, ouch.” 

I inched closer. Or he did. We were closer. “Now how old are you - physically?” 

He caught on again to what I was asking, and I could tell he was playing coy. “I’m still technically nineteen or twenty physically.” 

“How though?” 

“Well… I was almost twenty when… um… yeah, I guess you mean when was I born.” He adjusted his position. “I don’t think you’re ready for that knowledge. I’d even tell you the month and day I was born, I made the Gregorian cut just well enough that a few years later the date would be terribly iconic.” 

“Don’t you dare tell me you were born on the bloody fourth of July,” I said, leaning in my burrito. “Don’t you bloody dare.” He looked at me, hand covering his mouth as he silently admitted it. “A few years later… are you telling me you were born before the Declaration of Independence?” 

“I don’t recall telling you that specifically,” he mused. 

“Alfred!” I sat back in stunned silence. The times to live through since then. He looked at me nervously, hand moving to spin one of the rings on his other hand - rings I didn’t ever notice before. His presence always seemed to bring one’s attention to his face, not his fingers. “Okay, um, we won’t talk about your age today - that’s… that’s something you’re going to have to tell me about later.” 

“If that’s what you’d like to hear about… sure. Then what do you want to talk about for the…ten minutes we have to spare before dinner?” 

“Have you always worn those?” I asked, pointing at his hand. 

“These? Of course, I wear them everywhere when I’m out. Are you into stone meanings?” He stopped himself after the question and shook his head. “Wait, duh, you are. Stupid question. Um, aha, well this one right here,” he pointed to the simple gold band, a bit scratched on the outside, “this is my father’s wedding ring. It’s a posy ring, which means there’s an inscription on the inside. It’s a bit worn out due to age and wear, but it says ‘love eternal.’ My mother had something similar.” He moved on to the ruby ring kept on his pinkie. “Birthstone. Supposedly grants courage, energy, and love.” Pressing his lips together he touched the ring on his index. “Aquamarine. Inner peace, courage, and luck…” 

He sat staring at it for a good moment; slowly inching it off his finger. Then… he handed it to me. What looked like a relatively simple band from far away was very intricate up close in the details of the silver. He held it out further in front of my face. 

“What are you doing?” I asked, plainly painting my confusion. 

“I’m giving this to you. You need it more than I do.” 

“Alfred, this is a real gem, that’s expensive - I can’t take this.” 

“If it’s actually lucky, then you need it more than me. I already have all the luck in the world. The ring was given to me by a colleague when I was down, it’s only fitting if I pass it on. I’ve kept it long enough.” 

“Alfred, I can’t.” 

“Well, I’m leaving it here after you eat.” 

“I will chase you down the street if you do.” 

He laughed. “I don’t think you’ll keep up. Unless you keep it… then maybe you’d be lucky enough.” 

He wiggled the ring a bit more in front of me, and hesitantly, I took it. He watched me as I fitted it to my fingers, it finding the best spot on my middle finger, where it sat comfortably, but not too snug. “I don’t know what to say,” I said, looking at the likely thousand dollar base price piece on my hand. 

“You can say, bon appetit, because dinner is ready.” 

 

The barley soup was good. Really good, actually. And I did feel a bit better after eating. Peter came down from the bed and hesitantly shook hands again with Alfred - who complimented his bravery and magical talent to get into locked places. 

“Be a good brother to Arthur now, ya hear? You’ll both be working extra hard and you can’t let petty disagreements tear you guys apart. He’s your keeper and he’ll protect you because that’s what big brothers do, but you need to watch his back and help him out, okay?” Alfred was crouching by the door, ready to leave, but left his hand closed in a fist until Peter nodded and bumped his fist right back. He stood up and looked at me. “I do have a quick question for you though, well, more of a request, but you don’t have to follow up with it.” 

“What is it?” 

“Do you have anything like a sleeping potion? I don’t know if those actually exist, but I’ve been having trouble sleeping over the past few days… Probably stress or something, but I’d love to sleep for the next twenty-four hours…” he whispered as the door was open. 

I mentally checked through my tonic inventory. “One sec,” I said, grabbing my wand and commanding a chest down from the top of the bookshelf. There were a couple of unused potions. I sifted through them, pushing past the larger containers to the two inch vials. “Here we go. Something of a sleeping tonic, of sorts. It’ll make you feel drowsy if your vampire system doesn’t completely ignore magical physics.” 

He took the lilac vial. “It shouldn’t. I think I’m quite in your hands on that one. Thank you.” He put it into his bag pocket and stepped out the door, stopping, and turning back. “You going to be okay tonight?” 

“I think I will be… thanks for coming by,” I replied. “And for making ‘dinner’... and for the ring… and just talking, I guess.” 

“I’m pretty good at talking,” he said back. We both smiled and looked away. 

“Well, um, have a goodnight, Alfred.” 

“You too, Arthur.” 

He took a step back and in a sudden rush of adrenaline, I quickly stepped forward and hugged him. You know, in a friend way. Because that’s what we were. Friends. Bros, as he would put it. Probably in shock, he returned the hug, and firm and cold as he was, it felt pretty comforting. His breath on my neck made my hairs stand as we pulled apart, and we both awkwardly laughed as he descended the stairs. I ran inside my apartment, slammed the door, and screamed into my hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Arthur sings to Peter is the title of the chapter, originally sung by Dick Gaughan. Feel free to give it a listen on Youtube! I was obsessed with it during my time in Scotland.


	12. No Strings Attached

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is this a date? Neither of them are actually sure.

I worked the entire weekend away trying to keep busy and sent a good portion of my paycheck home for the funeral expenditures. Getting back on campus to remain busy almost felt like a relief. The rainstorm that took up most of our days off had disappeared off into the Atlantic; what was left was scattered clouds and a cool morning breeze. 

Evidently, another fight greeted many in the courtyard. The crowd wasn’t as big as before, but one fighter was certainly the same. Gilbert was going off, but not in the rage he had been with Roderich, but defensively; shouting with an air of uncomfortability. If fists went flying, I wouldn’t want to be in his position - six people stood before him. I recognized one girl from the frat party all those nights ago. Her long hair pulled half back, with a black cape hanging loosely around her dress. She was the only one of the group speaking, not that I could hear, but Gil did not seem happy. Next to her was another woman - her hair just as light blonde, cropped - trying to mediate. Behind them stood the tallest man I’ve ever seen. Taller than Ludwig for sure. His long coat ruffled in the wind, a scarf drifting lazily; he stood perfectly still, arms by his side, watching Gilbert shout in German and broken English. When I saw his mouth move, Gilbert practically jumped back, and the yelling ceased. Three boys who stood to the side of the group took a step back. I pulled out my phone, brought up my camera, and sent the photo to the neighborhood people expert: Alfred. He didn’t answer - which should have been expected since it was morning. Walking up the steps to the main building, I noticed Kiku watching from the doorway. I asked him why no one was interfering. 

“Even I wouldn’t get in the middle of that,” he said, shaking his head. We watched as Ludwig came out and waited until Gil had backed off enough for him to grab his brother’s arm and yank him inside. The group left behind - which, as I looked longer, kind of looked very similar, I wondered if they were siblings - turned towards a different hall on campus and took off; the crowd parting as they walked through them. It wasn’t until the middle of my second class that my phone would vibrate from inside my pocket. Alfred’s responses came in bursts as they always did. 

_“My b, I was sleeping. I still would be sleeping but I need to stress eat… Ah shit, is Gil getting into fights again??? … Damn Ivan and co is back, sound the alarm, winter is here”_

I rested the phone on my knee. _“Who is he? Why would Gilbert be fighting with him?”_

_“Ivan only comes when the weather gets colder - he and his sister don’t do heat well… you don’t see me not showing up even when the sun’s out #bravery … he’s just an easy guy to pick a fight with. Creepy vibes, his family always butting heads with other families… though, he has some good friends - see that brown haired guy in the back with scrawny and shortie? That’s Toris. Swell man. Helped me out a lot a few years ago with some favors. Definitely the easiest one to talk to of the Russian roulette going on in that photo”_

_“Gil didn’t seem too comfortable around them that’s for sure. Even Kiku didn’t want to get involved.”_

Alfred took a minute to get back. _“Like I said man, he’s just creepy. Also!! Do you just want my snapchat so photo sending would be easier? I’ll send you my username…”_

I had to download it, although I didn’t say anything about it as we became ‘friends’ on the simple app. Alfred’s little version of him took up the screen as he sent a photo with text reading “what seems appropriate for a formal meeting nowadays?” In the photo were various suits laying on a bed I didn’t know he owned. They all looked quite old fashioned - which was something I couldn’t not tell him. He sent another photo, zoomed in on his face at an awful angle with the text reading “fuuck u rite lets go shopping.” I sent a photo from below the desk, zooming in as he did as I made a quizzical face. He replied with a blurred photo - “im coming to pick u up i shant take no for an answer.” Our snaps just got less and less flattering as the class went on. I think I agreed to go shopping with him for this “formal” event he didn’t go into detail about. 

I ran into a familiar trio in the hallway not too long after class got out. They sandwiched Gilbert between them, arms wrapped around his shoulders and waist on either side. Francis was speaking quietly as they walked, tilting his face to look up at the German. I shuffled along a bit faster to catch up. Tapping Antonio on the shoulder - all three of them swiveled around at once. 

“Eyebrows!” Francis said, holding out his free arm. “We were just talking about you as our main magically inclined compatriot!” As I ignored the gesture, he returned his hand to flick his hair back. “We were wondering if it was possible to immediately bring a heatwave around? I think that’s feasible, non? For someone of your skill?” 

I blinked. “You want a heatwave? That’s… not the type of magic I do. Why do you need a heatwave, I thought autumn was your fashion aesthetic.” 

“We need someone to die, or at least melt prematurely. For the sake of honor!” 

“Honor, Arthur,” Antonio emphasized. 

“You want me to murder someone with the sun?” I shook my head. “What happened with that fight? Is it that Ivan guy that this is about?” 

“He’s onto us. Retreat,” Francis murmured, pulling the group in a different direction. 

Gilbert looked over his shoulder. “He just wanted me to be part of his clique because I am so awesome! But I would never be seen within ten feet of that icicle!” And they dragged him down a different hallway, one far away from the headmaster’s office. 

 

Admittedly, I wasn’t expecting to get picked up by a car. Some part of me believed Alfred would just appear at the academy grounds and we’d bus it or walk to where he planned on shopping. He sat on the hood of a camaro as the sun disappeared behind the trees in the distance, legs crossed with his phone balanced on a knee as he scrolled. For a cool evening, he wore a plain, dark t-shirt, a blue plaid button-down tied precariously but fitting around his hips - as if he wore it there on purpose and not because he was warm and didn’t need it. 

“Who on Earth dresses you,” I said, adjusting the strap of my bag to sit in the palm of my hand. He looked up from his phone, peeking over the rim of his glasses. 

“Oh hey! You’re out of class earlier than expected,” he said, tucking the phone into his front pocket. He slid off the car. 

“Mm, the professor didn’t feel like teaching anymore today.” 

“Love when that happens.” He walked around the car, opening the passenger door. “Chuck me your bag, I’ll put it in the back.” 

“Where are we going again?” I asked, sliding my bag across the roof. My laptop was in there - I wasn’t throwing it. 

“The mall,” he said. “Where most people go to shop around here.” 

“That’s… in the city, right? I haven’t been that far inward. I usually stick to consignment or thrift shops… because they’re cheap.” I wandered around the camaro to where he was ducked into the car - the edge of his shirt riding up his back. 

“It’s right off the highway once we get there - not too long of a drive. We may hit rush hour, but if we’re lucky, it’ll be over by then,” he exclaimed, inching himself back out. He huffed and fluffed his hair like putting a bag in the backseat took a lot of effort. “Are you hungry? There’s a food court there. Lots of options.” He kept the door open as I sat inside, then immediately was in the driver’s seat. “We’ll hit that up first; it’s suppertime anyway.” 

The inside of the car was chic in layman's terms. The neon lights that illuminated the dark layout when he pushed a button cast a blue glow around the interior. I pulled the seatbelt across my chest. It had been forever since I sat in the front seat of a car. 

“I don’t have a lot of money on me,” I said, checking to make sure my wand and phone were carefully tucked away in my blazer. “Not that I need anything.” 

A noise came from Alfred’s throat as he glanced towards me. “I’m not going to make you buy anything - it was me who invited you out,” he said, backing the car out and quickly whipping it around to get on the path to the main road. “It’s my treat.” 

I scoffed. “Stop spending money so frivolously.” 

“‘StOp SpEnDiNg MoNeY sO fRiVoLoUsLy,’” was what came out of Alfred’s mouth as we turned and he laid on the gas. 

Reaching some sort of highway took a lot less time than I thought it would. The bus route often kept to quieter roads around the suburbs, but Alfred just took one side road and all of a sudden we were surrounded by drivers making their way to the city. The engine hummed as we shifted into the left-most lane. 

“Do you want the roof down?” he asked when the sun completely set. 

“Do I what now? It’s a convertible?” 

“Surprise, surprise - hit this button right here,” he said, pointing to a square button on the dash. I reached over and pressed it, sitting back when a loud click started pulling the roof back, folding it into itself and settling on the trunk of the car. The windshield sent the air high over our heads as our hair was pushed around. “I was storing your bag in the seat net so it didn’t go flying,” he shouted over the wind. 

“Damn you for tempting me to not care,” I replied, sticking my face to the side where the window used to be. The lights of the skyscrapers and office buildings ahead were beautiful - reminiscent of my few trips to London. As he said before, it wasn’t long before he quickly maneuvered into the right lane to exit the highway. The engine suddenly became louder as we slowed down on the road. It turned and turned around a large, round building covered in advertisements and company names, practically leading right to the parking garage, where the dark was replaced by fluorescent lights as we rounded the ramp some more. It wasn’t too cramped - being a weeknight. 

The fabricated vanilla smell that the mall pumped through its vents was surprisingly comforting as we walked through one of the many doors into the mall. My eyes immediately drifted upward at the multilevel, escalator-world and the skylight above - that was the only reminder that it was night regardless of how lit the mall was. I followed Alfred to the first escalor we came upon, riding it up, and then up another one, and then another… The food court was supposedly on the top floor - which had a mezzanine floor above it with a movie theater and arcade. 

“Anything you’re craving in particular?” Alfred asked as we awkwardly lapped the court while I looked at all the options. “Chinese? Philly cheesesteaks? Taco Bell?” 

“Honestly, I don’t really care,” I replied, having already picked out my top three options. 

“Arthur… If you don’t pick, we’re getting McDonald’s.” 

“There’s not even one in here.” 

“I’ll find one.” 

“Fine, fine,” I said, walking in front of the Charley’s Philly Steaks. “This isn’t expensive, is it?” 

“No,” he replied, nudging me into the line. “Get whatever you want.” 

“I don’t think I’ve had one before…” I said, mulling over the menu. I asked for the classic, and Alfred ordered something relating to California. I squinted at the menu - there were some weird names. He also ordered the ‘real’ lemonade and some scary loaded fries. “How much is it?” 

Alfred’s butt pushed me to the side when we inched the register. “Don’t worry about it.” 

I reached into my wallet and pulled out a few dollars. “Alfred, come on.” 

“Fuck nah,” he replied, pulling out a card. 

I swallowed my pride and shoved the three dollars back into my thin wallet. It was just food, I thought. I’d pay for something later in return. We got two trays worth of food and carried them to an empty table in the middle of the court. The cheesesteak was good. I might have cried a little. Alfred picked at the fries covered in cheese, bacon, and jalapenos and pinched the straw of his lemonade to keep the seeds at the bottom. 

“I thought vampires only drink blood,” I whispered, although no one was really near us. 

He smiled, swallowing the terribly sweet beverage. “I mean, sure, that’s right. It’s, ah, the only thing that actually gives us the nutrients we need to function. Like normal people and water.” He sipped the lemonade again. “But like I said before - I eat for pleasure. And stuff like this is delicious… even if I can’t really digest it.” 

“I was going to say - your metabolism must have been ridiculous.” 

“I’d have to work out three times as much if I weren’t… me,” he commented, then laughed lightly. “But yeah, if I want to do anything functionally - I need that sweet vampire water. Crave that mineral.” 

“Have you ever overate...? Drank? What’s the terminology for consuming blood?” I asked, taste testing the fries. My brain counted the calories and concluded I never ate enough anyway. 

Alfred sat back, tapping his knee as he crossed it over his other leg. “Hm, I’m sure I have. But it isn’t like my supply at home is unlimited. Control is quite important. Although, having just enough means I can do all that fun stuff like cry and -” 

“Wait just a second,” I said, leaning forward with my finger pointed. “You can’t cry?” 

“Mmm not usually.” 

“That’s… what?” 

“Arthur,” Alfred said, biting into his sandwich. “I’m kinda dead-ish. The body can’t function without blood, and half the time I’m running on empty.” 

“Dead-ish.” 

“Yeah… I wasn’t born like this, you know.” 

A man stopped by our table so suddenly my heart dropped faster than my food did in my throat. I coughed into my elbow as Alfred looked up at the man, and his expression changed from sarcastically teasing to innocent recognition. 

“Monsignor Plante - what are you doing here?” Alfred said, standing up and shaking his hand. 

“Oh, Mr. Jones! I knew I recognized that blond hair of yours. I’m shopping for my niece - it’s her birthday tomorrow and I’m an awful uncle.” The man laughed, patting the back of Alfred’s hand. I ceased my coughing and glanced up. It didn’t take long to note the clerical collar he wore. “How are you?” 

“Not too shabby. I’m frantically cleaning my house for some guests; buying some things; chilling with my friend, Arthur, here,” Alfred replied, glancing at me as the man turned towards my chair. 

“Ah, I haven’t had the pleasure,” he said, a gentle smile coming to his face. He held his hand out to me and I took it. It was warm, and he seemed to notice that same fact about me. “Oh, you’re not…” He glanced at Alfred. “He’s not…?” 

Pursing his lips, Alfred shook his head. Hands rubbing the fabric of his jeans. 

“I’m not… what?” I asked, looking between the two of them. 

“I’m so sorry,” the man said, voice lowering into a whisper. He kept looking at Alfred. “Does he…” 

“He does, yes.” 

I furrowed my brow, slowly standing up. “Yes, hello, he is over here,” I said, waving. 

Monsignor Plante laughed lightly. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to be so rude. I’m happy Alfred has found another friend whom he trusts enough to know.” He took my hands between his. I stared bewildered. “Truthfully,” he whispered to me, “if you’re any better than the one with the long hair, Alfred is truly blessed.” 

“I know exactly who you’re talking about,” I replied. Looking at the man straight in the eye. “I am one hundred percent better.” 

We exchanged some more awkward small talk before the man took a step back and smoothed out his hair. 

“Well,” he said, “time to fulfil the tasks of an uncle. Good luck with your home, Alfred; and it was a pleasure meeting you too, Arthur. Oh! And will I be seeing you this Sunday?” he asked Alfred as he turned to leave. 

“I’ll try my best,” Alfred replied, crumpling up our trash on the table. 

“The kids certainly miss you. Deacon Paul’s humor can only gain so much attention.” 

“I’ll check the weather and see what I can do.” 

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave you two be. Have a safe night! God bless!” 

We watched as he hurried off, turning the corner to the long halls of clothing stores. Alfred chucked the trash and napkins into the garbage and tightened the shirt around his hips. I glanced at him and then to the ceiling, then down the hall opposite to where the man walked. 

If Alfred could blush at the moment, I’m sure he would be. He kept his hands in his pockets, watching his feet as we walked down the hall to another escalator. “Stop looking at me,” he breathed, stepping down onto a step and letting it drag him away from where I stood. 

“Who was that?” 

“Monsignor Plante… my priest… from my parish.” 

“You… go to church?” I asked, stepping down two steps to catch up. 

He puffed his cheeks. “I may be damned to hell, but I can still go to mass. Plus they sometimes need someone to fill in for the CCD teacher.” 

I didn’t bother asking what CCD was, it was the lesser of the important things. “When he shook my hand he asked if I was something… Alfred, does he know?” 

“Know what?” 

“You know what - Alfred - how does he know you’re… you know!” Goodness, people must have been confused watching two grown men whisper battle on an escalator. 

“Of course he knows,” he replied, turning away from me. Then he turned back. “I go to confession every now and then in case I die.” 

I shoved his shoulder; he didn’t budge. “You can’t just tell him. He’s a human - what if a hunter found out!” 

“Confession is strictly secret - he has his holy vows or whatever they’re called.” We stepped off the escalator and rounded the corner to walk into a clothing store. 

“Alfred…” 

“I can’t lie to a priest! That's a sin!” he exclaimed - perhaps a bit too loudly as some other patrons glanced over from looking at the well tailored suit jackets that lined the store. I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest. My wand itched to cast some spell to change the mood, but Alfred seemed to immediately do that by himself. He grabbed some ties and held them up. “What color should I go with?” 

 

“You should try this on,” Alfred said, pointing to a mannequin wearing a red checkered suit. It looked very dapper. 

“You’re kidding right?” I laughed. We had gone through almost all the suits looking at their shape and cut until Alfred agreed to one that would fit the occasion that he refused to speak about in the store. 

“Nah, man, you should do it. Look, they have your size.” He pulled the trousers and matching blazer out and threw them at me. “Try it on!” He all but pushed me into the dressing room where I kicked off my jeans and replaced them with the tartan designed suit. 

I stared at myself in the mirror. My messy hair hardly matched the aesthetic of the tailored clothes, but I couldn’t help but feel like some CEO of some luxury British company. The price tag hung by a small tag. I looked at it and audibly gasped. Swinging the dressing room door open, I stomped to Alfred. “Did you even look at the price of this -” 

“Wow,” he said, promptly cutting me off. “Look at you, all classy. Very Scottish.” 

My heart thumped. “Scottish…” 

“Do you like it? Is it comfortable?” Alfred asked as some of the store attendants wandered over to grab at the chance of making a sale. 

“You look very handsome.” “Red is a good color on you!” “Have you looked at our cufflinks?” they inquired, though not daring stepping too close. 

I looked back at my reflection in the mirrors around us. Alfred stood behind, looking over my shoulder at the reflection too. “It is comfortable,” I admitted, running my hands along the jacket. It had an inner pocket - no - two inner pockets. I traced my finger along a square of the plaid. It’s something Allistor wore often when he went out; at least the trousers - he wasn’t too much of a full suit man. I took a deep breath and made eye contact with Alfred again in the mirror. He was doing that thing he did, whether he does it on purpose or not, with his eyes and that lightheaded feeling that came with it. 

“Do you want it?” he asked. 

“K-kinda,” I said. Then, as soon as he smiled and turned towards the register, I shoved my fist in my mouth. “Don’t you bloody dare! This is too much, Alfred.” I grabbed his wallet from his hand as he pulled it out and ran into the dressing room without a second thought. 

“Arthur,” he said, knocking on the door. I folded the suit pieces back up and changed into my normal clothes. “Arthur, it isn’t that much.” 

“You git, did you even look at the price? This is a three digit number. A very high three digit number.” Given in retrospect, it wasn’t the most expensive suit in the store. I leaned against the wall, haphazardly sliding down it in frustration. I did want the suit. 

“I get in on sale… I have coupons… and rewards points…” he said. “It’s not going to be that much. I saw your face - you felt something. Let yourself have something nice once in a while.” 

“It’s not that, Alfred. I don’t… I don’t need this. I… I don’t do anything that needs these fancy clothes. I work at a flower shop, for fuck’s sake. I go to school, take care of my brother, then go to bed. There’s nothing fancy in my life that’s worth this much.” 

There was a pregnant pause between us as I felt Alfred shift from one foot to the other. 

“Yet,” he said. 

“...What?” 

“You don’t need to find a reason to treat yourself. Those reasons will find you. And I promise, I can get that suit price cut in half… and if you’re so picky about it - you can pay me back half of that when you get the chance.” 

Getting up from the floor, I pulled my wand from its hiding place and cracked the dressing room door open a few inches. I pressed the quartz against his chest, looking at him dead in his goddamn eyes. “You swear to that? Because I will write this down. A witch doesn’t forget promises.” 

“I swear on my coffin, I’ll be like a tax collector and hound you in a few months for that pesky quarter deal you owe me, no strings attached.” 

“Fine. We’ll get the damn suit.” 

He smirked and grabbed his wallet from the small room. We walked out of the store with our arms full of bags like you see women do in those movies all the time. Alfred explained there was one last place he needed to go to, and if I wanted to do anything else before we went there. Obviously not, I told him, since I refused to have him spend any more on me. We walked down to the ground floor once more and to a shop in the corner. It appeared to be a winery with some other liquor on the shelves. Not many people were in there. Alfred gave me one last glance before we walked inside and the attendant immediately looked up from her desk. 

“Good evening,” she said. “Interested in our Cabernet Sauvignon? Just received new bottles from Napa Valley.” Her gaze shifted from me over to Alfred and her eyes glinted keenly. “Or perhaps you’d like something… thicker?” 

Alfred smiled. “The freshest batch if you don’t mind. For a Redi Obeo.” 

She chuckled behind the desk, humming to herself. “Ah, hate those… Is he with you?” She asked, pointing to me. Why was I just a pronoun today? 

“Yes he is.” 

“Pretty brave,” she commented, then retrieved a key from her belt. “Okay, follow me.” She walked us around the back to the storage - piles of wine bottles in fridges and low lighting certainly set up the atmosphere. A large walk in freezer sat locked with a heavy padlock dangling in front. She clicked the key in and turned it, eventually opening the door. It was deathly freezing. The cold air rolled out in a fog through the plastic that hung from the top. “We got a shipment this morning. So they haven’t been stored frozen for too long. Do you have a preference?” 

Seemingly unfazed by the drop in temperature, Alfred poked his head in the freezer. “Donated,” he stated. “Um, twenties is good. Clean, and AB or A… or O… I’m not sure how much I care at this point.” 

“Duly noted,” she said from inside, shifting through the bottles. Alfred turned back towards me, a scowl quickly disappearing as he smiled awkwardly in my direction. She came out a few moments later with a cold bottle in hand. “25, male, donated, clean, A positive. Came in the morning shipment. Sound good?” 

“Fantastic,” he replied, though not as cheerful. She walked us back to the storefront after locking the freezer back up. “I don’t buy from here a lot - this is very bougie,” he said to me. I just shrugged, thinking about the underground blood market the world apparently had. 

 

We sat in his car again, settling in with all our bags and idling until the heat filled the car. The temperature outside had dropped significantly since we left - summer really was behind us. I rolled the paperboard handle of my suit’s bag between my thumb and forefinger. I was a bit miffed, but no one ever had bought me anything so expensive before. The most valuable thing I owned was my wand, and that was a handcrafted piece. I’m not sure what bothered me more: that I let Alfred buy this for me, or that I was happy to have it. 

“Do all vampires do that?” I asked propping my elbow against the ledge of the door. 

Alfred glanced over, brows raised quizzically while we drove out of the garage. “Well dang, if only I knew what _that_ was, Arthur.” 

Twisting the aquamarine ring on my finger, I said, “That eye thing you always do.” 

“Eye thing…” 

“Mm, like when you told the bus driver to wait last week. You made him space out.” 

There was a low hum in the car. Alfred tilted his head, keeping his eyes towards the road. I shifted my position to stare at him. 

“Alfred-” 

“Did I really?” he asked. “I don’t remember.” 

“Alfred, you did it to me today. In the store, in the mirror - I’m not an idiot. Your eyes always do that thing. I know you’ve noticed.” 

“Sorry,” he said, shifting lanes. “It’s not something that’s easy to turn off. I didn’t mean to coax anything out of you.” He lowered the volume of the radio - I didn’t even notice it was on. We were silent as I waited for him to continue; he didn’t until he glanced at my face. “Oh. You want to know what it is. Right, right. Um, it’s a suggestion thing? I guess if we wanted to get cheesy, we can call it hypnosis, but, it’s more complicated than that. All the vampires I met can do it; you can make a suggestion to someone and they’d follow it, or… you can get the truth out of someone. I didn’t realize I was doing it so often.” 

“So it’s like a charm,” I said, taking out my wand. “I’ve seen some witches get people to do things for them. Though, I’ve also seen it backfire terribly. I tend to stick to objects. Messing with people just… stabs at your constitution, I suppose.” The copper around my wand was warm to the touch. 

“I’ve seen some fucked up things,” Alfred added. “You can take a wild guess what the ability is traditionally used for. 

I could imagine. I looked out the window as we coasted off the highway and onto the streets I recognized from the bus route. We kept to the speed limit - which made me almost laugh out loud as everything Alfred did was not the way I imagined him to have been. We picked up my sleeping brother from Abby’s house and rolled quietly up to the apartment complex down the way. He helped grab my bags and school bag while I carried Peter up the stairs. Quietly, I got Peter inside the apartment and gently laid him on the couch. Alfred stood in the doorway, holding my things. 

“You’re a mystery, Alfred Jones,” I exclaimed, taking the bags from him. “Wrapped in a riddle.” 

“I’m sure you’ll figure me out soon, Sherlock,” he replied. 

“Thanks-” 

“I am s-” 

We both bit our lips. Peter was asleep. We couldn’t chuckle at the happenstance that continued to occur. It took a full minute of pressing our hands to our mouths or Alfred leaning against the frame to wait out who would dare say something first before he just took a breath. 

“I am sorry about making you feel pressured about buying the suit. I should’ve stopped pestering you about it when you said no.” 

My knuckle, which had been between my teeth, moved forward to bounce off his chest. “I was going to say thank you for that, actually. I’m a bit tight about finances, but,” I watched my hand, “I did look really good in that suit.” 

His pointed teeth showed in the brief second before he covered his laugh with his fist. In the amount of times we’ve spent just hanging out in my doorway, the awkward tension should have gone away. Now what seemed customary since the last time he was over - we hugged. And I propped myself higher on my toes, pushing his shoulder down with my arm, so I could speak directly into his ear. 

“But pray to your God if you do that again, I will fill your coffin with garlic, nail it shut, and send it hurtling down a ravine in the light of day -” 

“But will I be in the coffin though?” 

“I fucking hate you so much, you goddamn tit.” 

“Where will I be, Arthur?!” 

His forehead rested on my shoulder as we tried not to laugh. The hallway was dark, but I knew a light would turn on from one of my neighbors who’d complain about us being too loud. Alfred stepped back and sauntered to the stairwell. 

“Sleep well, Arthur.” 

“You too.” 

“I’m nocturnal, but thank you.” 

“Oh, shut up. Good luck with your… thing tomorrow.” 

He pushed up his glasses, his smile waning. “Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Long time no see. College is kicking my butt right now and work never gives me time to be productive since I work the night shift. But - I wrote this chapter instead of an essay for my senior capstone because I needed to have Al and Artie interact some more.  
> I was going through my chapter notes on another document and realized I only have four more chapters planned out! It's been a long time since I spent time extending my chapter notes instead of writing the actual chapters, so expect a small delay around Christmas time with the chapter then so I can continue to provide more in the future! I have a few small plot points I need to address which will bring drama, action, some hurt/comfort, and some good good romance. Because that's what we're here for. Waiting for these two dumb boys to make out.  
> The next two chapters address some backstory and may have uncomfortable themes involved, so I'll place a warning in the beginning of the chapter and tell you guys where the best place to skip to. I also don't write detailed trigger-inducing scenes, as it makes me uncomfortable to do as well - so there won't be any of that involved. But the hints will be there. Again, I'll include all the warnings in the notes at the start of any chapter that may include them!
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and sticking around! I'm determined to not leave you guys hanging.


	13. Sins of the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: mentions of blood, and some unpleasant things, a really awful man who makes bad first impressions on everyone

Standing in front of his house this time was putting me on edge. The walk from campus to Alfred’s place was longer than I anticipated. My calves hurt and shoulder was sore from carrying more than one student’s homework. As expected, Alfred hadn’t showed up for yesterday’s lab. 

 

“He was stressing about it all week,” Francis said, taking Alfred’s chair and using it as a leg rest. “He’ll be back next class though; these things don’t take too long.” 

“What thing is it? We went out yesterday and he bought some interesting stuff. Like a cocktail party for vampires,” I replied, thinking back to the detailed blood request he bought at the damn vampire store. 

“It’s kind of like that, hônnetement. Though not as fun. Imagine spending a whole day with someone who irritates you to no avail.” 

“I mean… I can only handle one seventy-five minute class twice a week.” 

Francis pulled his hair back into a low ponytail. “Vrai, even I can’t do that.” 

Shoving the work we did into our bags, I took the leftover paperwork from the table behind me for Alfred. Francis went for it at the same time. 

“I got it,” I said. 

“I’ll see him first, I’m sure,” he said. 

“I’ll drop it off at his place tomorrow night. I got it,” I pressed, folding the papers into my messenger bag. The Frenchman looked at me to the papers and shrugged - his mouth curling into an annoying smile. 

“D’accord.” 

 

And here I was, crunching through the fallen leaves on the path to his house. The sun was on the horizon, casting an orange hue on the grass and trees. I noticed heavier shades over the windows, keeping out any sunlight that may have passed throughout the day. Part of me wondered if he would even be awake at this hour. Walking around some hedges, I stepped up onto the porch and stopped. 

Be a man, Arthur. 

I coiled my hand into a fist and tapped on the door. My legs immediately took a step back as I waited. Maybe he was asleep. A few moments passed before I went to knock on the door again, too nervous to try the doorbell; but then it cracked open. My hand recoiled back to the strap of my bag. Alfred poked his head out, his eyes - the brightest blue I had ever seen on him - widened in frank surprise. He glanced over his shoulder and quickly shuffled out the door, closing it behind him. There we stood in the shade of his front porch. 

“Hey,” he said, smoothing out the dress-pants he wore - the ones we bought the other night. His button-down was tucked in, sleeves rolled. His hands seemed to roam about himself before settling on being clasped together behind his back. 

“Hey,” I replied. 

“What… what’re you doing here?” he asked, looking over my shoulder. “Did you walk?” 

“Oh! Yeah, I came to drop off the homework you missed yesterday. I figured you’d be busy so I decided to wait. Though… you appear to be all dressed up still,” I noted, sifting through the folders to get his papers. “I thought your thing was last night?” 

“It was - is. Um, my guests decided to spend the morning much to my dismay. Hosting is exhausting; all people want to do is drink. Time goes by so fast.” He took the papers from me and gave them a once over. “Thanks though, Arthur. You didn’t have to do that.” 

“It was nothing, really. I enjoyed the walk.” I wanted to see you, I thought, though it never left my lips. 

If my face wasn’t already red, seeing Alfred’s face begin to color certainly didn’t help. “I, um, I can call you a car if you need it. I would drive you home, but… “ 

“No, no, I’m all right. The bus stop around here isn’t too far. Just wanted to make sure you got the lab stuff.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah! Cheers, though.” I began to waddle backwards. 

And then the door opened again. Both sets of eyes drifted towards the tall woman in the entryway. Her black hair was long, straight, and parted in the middle, framing her round face quite nicely; her cheekbones were practically carved, and warmed by the dark rouge dusting her skin. It was her eyes that caught me off guard - dark ebony, piercing, but benign. She held a mug between her fingers as she opened the screen door. 

“Who’s this delectable young man? He smells divine,” she said, and in a way I felt very flattered. Her voice was low, smoky, and pleasant to the ear. Alfred’s blush only escalated. She took a sip from her mug and added, “Perfect size for you and everything.” 

“Nuna!” Alfred turned around and pushed at the door, inching her back inside. “Don’t embarrass me,” he whispered and I pretended not to listen. 

“I’m just saying, you usually have excellent taste, it’s a compliment! Let me say hello, don’t be rude,” she replied, slipping right by him. On the same level, the fact she stood taller than Alfred was quite endearing and terrifying at the same time. “Hello, I’m Nuna - Alfred’s coven mother.” She held out her hand, and as a gentleman, I took it and lightly kissed her knuckles. “Oh, you’re a doll,” she said, and she looked at Alfred. “Please keep him.” 

“Nuna, we’re just… we’re just friends,” he replied. Pushing up his glasses, he wedged himself between us. “Go back inside, I’m trying to say goodbye.” 

“Say goodbye? Why it’s just the evening - invite him in!” She took my hand - not as cold as I thought it would be - and pulled me towards the door. Alfred’s face only got more and more stressed. Oh boy. 

“I’m sorry,” he said as we made it to the living room. The place was a bit tidier compared to the time we worked on the science experiment. There were some books on the couches opened and the uncorked bottle from when we went shopping was empty on the table. Alfred took the mug from Nuna and left for the kitchen, returning just a second later. She sat on the couch with the most books, politely closing and setting them aside as she invited me to sit down. Barefoot, she tucked her feet under her - disappearing beneath her skirts. 

“Tell me about yourself,” she prompted, resting her chin on her hands as she propped them atop the couch’s back. Alfred handed me a glass of water, reluctantly sitting down on the closest chair. 

“Um, well, I’m Arthur… Kirkland. Alfred’s classmate. I’m, um, a witch? I haven’t been here very long, but many people have welcomed me to the area…” I told her. She drank in every word. 

“My, my, the foreign witch. What a pleasure it is to meet you, Arthur. Always exciting to meet a covener. Some of my best friends are witch coven mothers of near and far regions.” She paused. “How rude of me acting like this is an interview. Let me tell you a little bit about myself and my coven. You’ll get to hear about baby Alfred.” 

“Oh God,” said man mumbled, “he doesn’t want to hear it, Nuna, please.” 

I pressed my lips together, exchanging glances with Alfred, who only slumped further into his seat. “I am curious on how vampire covens work. I can’t imagine they’re identical to witch covens. Most of ours are family members.” 

Nuna smiled, looking up at the ceiling as she thought. Her fangs poked over her lip. “Physically related vampires are quite rare, but fascinating to see. Redi Obeo’s with family members would be so fun, wouldn’t it, Alfred?” 

“When have they ever been fun? All we do is sit inside and read papers. Maybe awkwardly watch a movie.” Alfred lowered his face into his hands. “I’d rather go back to school. At least people I like are there.” His gaze drifted to me; I pressed my lips together and glanced back to the woman. 

“Our covens are location based. The members are those who were turned in that land or live there. My coven, the Algonquin from which I began, covers much of the north eastern region of the country and into what you know as Canada. I make sure to check in and receive all my children to their new lives to teach them the rules and assure that their turner doesn’t up and disappear if I can help it,” she said, pausing. She looked off for a moment, then nodded. “Currently we have three-hundred-forty-six-thousand-and-five coven members with… about two thousand visitors that I don’t recognize as mine.” Her eyes returned to mine. “It’s my duty and privilege to know everyone’s location.” 

“That’s amazing,” I said. “I wasn’t aware there were so many vampires around. I’ve only ever met Alfred.” 

“Most people tend to live more secluded lives. It’s kind of dumb to live in big cities, but some still do,” Alfred added. “Places where the sun doesn’t shine for most of the day are the most popular.” 

Nuna nodded. “That’s very true; most of us are in Canada or higher in New England. I was quite surprised when I had to find a young Alfred roaming south from New York.” 

He groaned. “No, I thought you were going off on a different topic!” 

“It’s my honor to tease you in front of your friend, child.” 

Alfred tucked his face into the crook of his arm; his glasses propped up on his head. I adjusted myself on the couch, sipping nonchalantly from the water but listening intently. 

“I found him when he was about sixteen weeks - which is late on my part, but I didn’t detect him for the longest time. He was headed towards a different coven’s land so trying to convince him to head back was so unnecessarily difficult. All I could think of was all these white boys being so stubborn would drive my people to the ground,” she said, glaring mockingly at Alfred before continuing. “Once introductions were out of the way, he was quite the charming soldier…” 

Soldier, I thought. Of course that would make sense to when Alfred told me his birthday. My eyes drifted back towards him as Nuna’s story went on. He was watching her with such a caring look - one that I would give Peter when he tells me about his day when he’s back to being blue and outgoing. The pink in his cheeks, being so unusual to see, made him appear so human, so young. His eyes squinted with silent laughter as Nuna recalled all the silly and good memories they shared when they first met. 

There was a creak from the stairs and Alfred’s expression changed immediately. Fluidity and lighthearted smiles went rigid and tense as the creaks translated to steps coming down the stairwell from the second floor. Nuna paused her story, taking a sip from her mug - clearly not as phased as Alfred was by the approaching sound. I locked eyes with Alfred, and my heart felt incredibly heavy. He looked like a child. I subconsciously folded my fingers around my wand inside my sleeve. 

“Did you open a new bottle, Alfred? It has an outrageous aroma.” 

The succinct English accent caught me extremely off guard. A finely dressed man strut into the room, walking stick resting on his arm. He was older, but not by much - appearing to be in his mid-thirties, free of stubble. His light blond hair was long - longer than Francis’ - and kept plated back, tied with a thick ribbon. There was an aura of antipathy about him as his gaze flickered around the room. My fight or flight sense was almost automatically triggered when he stared at me - venomous chartreuse, sharp and antagonistic - until… it wasn’t. Something about his posture changed, and suddenly he was smiling, and the air felt calmer, but I knew better. I looked away. Alfred was sitting at the edge of the seat, watching this new man like a cat would a bird. 

“Michael,” Nuna said from her seat, “this is Alfred’s friend, Arthur. He came by to deliver some things from that academy. We’re telling him some stories before he heads home since he came all this way.” 

I watched his feet as he sauntered over, heels clicking until they came to an abrupt stop. With his cane lightly pressing into the floor, he leaned down. “Hm, so no new bottle, eh? That’s a shame. He has cologne on and everything.” 

The grip around my wand tightened. 

“Well, I suppose it can’t be helped. Sir Michael Fettiplace,” he said, and his hand appeared in my face. I looked back up, and his shady demeanor surrounded his pleasantries. 

I grabbed his hand, and made sure to grip it tightly. “Arthur Kirkland. Pleasure.” 

The expression he made when I spoke was one of surprise and amusement. His brows raised as his eyes glinted, a smug smirk encroaching along his mouth. He spun on his heel to face Alfred, who looked like he needed the water more than I did. “Blond and British. My, my, my dear boy, you do have a type. Green eyes too, you practically found a younger me,” he said, his voice teetering on mock. 

“You’re nothing like him, not even close,” Alfred said, standing up. “What do you need, Michael? Another glass? A plane ticket? The sweet release of death?” 

“Don’t be a bitch,” Michael replied, leaning back on his heels. 

“A bitch? Oh no. I am but your most obedient servant.” The sarcasm dripped heavily from Alfred’s tone as he displayed a fake bow. I felt like I needed to leave, but part of me didn’t want to leave him alone. 

They followed each other into the kitchen, the back and forth bitter talk going with them. The atmosphere in the room lightened just a bit. Nuna set her empty mug on the table, wiping the side of her mouth. She looked at me and gave a soft smile. “I’m sorry about them. You must be very uncomfortable.” 

“Slight. Very confused however.” 

“Ah, Michael. Yes, in tradition with Redi Obeo, the head of coven visits her wards, but when available, as does that vampire’s turner. Sometimes the turner and their kin have a stable relationship since many changes are voluntary, but others… well. These two don’t get along very well. I know every ten years this is Alfred’s least favorite day.” The sun had set by now, and Nuna moved to open the curtains; the cicadas and crickets singing their rhythmic tune. The coven mother sat by my side, suddenly taking my hand. “I know you two haven’t known each other very long by any means. But as a fellow coven member, I ask that you please keep an eye on him; he has many things about himself even he hasn’t discovered yet.” 

I opened my mouth but no words were spoken. I looked at her bewildered. 

“I know,” she said, quietly this time, her hand cupping my face. A wave of stillness calmed my nerves. “You are a young witch. But I feel such a great power from you. I think these are the years that will stand out the most in our lives.” 

“Are you… psychic…?” I asked, following her hushed tone. 

She smiled. “No dear, no. Call it intuition.” 

There was a shattering of glass from the hallway that caused both of us to break off whatever moment we were having to look towards the doorway as Alfred’s recognizable voice sent a variety of curses into the air. He stomped into the room, face gray and a hand to his forearm. Blood dripped onto his carpet. I didn’t know they could bleed. 

“The man needs to go, Nuna, I can’t have him in my house anymore,” he said, trying not to look at me as I stared at the plasma running down to his fingertips, trickling like a broken faucet. Alfred’s hand moved from its spot for just a moment. Two, small, round holes bore deep into the skin. He covered it again. 

Tongue running across his teeth, Michael sauntered back into the room as well, a piece of glass sticking out from his forehead. “Why are you so violent this decade, Alfred? We were on such good terms last time. Siobhan loves when I visit her.” His gaze drifted over to me. I simultaneously sat up straight and sunk into the cushion to not be seen - consequentially leaving me exactly as I was sitting with Nuna. “Oh, that’s right.” Michael, blood running down his face, lounged against the couch, giving me enough motivation to stand up. “You want to hear how little Alfred here got himself stuck on the immortal train to hell? Oh, I’ll tell you. It must’ve been the year of our Lord, seventeen-seventy-nine. What a young, naive lad he was. No longer a boy, but not yet a man - so determined to prove himself capable…” 

My attention went to Alfred as I pulled my wand from my sleeve, trying to push Michael’s monologue out of my head. Alfred’s skin was colder now as I touched it, holding his arm up and out. “Let me,” I said, and the American hesitantly obliged. 

“Hm, what were you,” Michael continued. “A Lieutenant? Captain? Whatever - he looked so proud with that gold epaulette on his shoulder. Allow me to set the picture: mid-summer. The continental regiment waiting on that ‘mad’ general’s plans for an attack on the British in New York. It was an unusually cold evening; hungry soldiers all huddled around their campfires whilst higher ranking officers relaxed in their tents…” 

I tapped the quartz of my wand against my hip as it glowed; copper wire heating up. I didn’t reply to anything Michael said, not even looking at him. Alfred kept his lips pressed together into a thin line, his arm quivering slightly in my hand. 

“You could imagine young Alfred’s face when I arrived in my white, pressed uniform - offering sanctuary from the night. Pretending to be French for part of that war was a pain, sure, but oh what fun it was.” Michael picked the glass from his face from what I assumed was a wine bottle that Alfred hit him with. “Do you know that it was Alfred’s fault I turned him? I would have just had my share and let him enjoy himself until he died. ‘Please, sir. Please, sir,’ he kept saying…” 

I knew Alfred was trying his best to keep up some composure. Pressing the quartz into the space between the two holes, I murmured, “Mam, dùin an leòn seo, tha mi ag iarraidh ort.” It was a spell from my brother’s book; one I hadn’t used often, but read through anyway. The healing arts were varied, but flesh wounds were more or less simple to deal with. My wand burned at the touch at this point - Alfred’s muscles tensing as the blood stopped. I silently cursed as my wand absorbed what blood it touched before I had time to wipe it away. Blood magic wasn’t on my to-do list. 

“Thanks,” he said, rubbing at the mark left on his arm. “You didn’t have to -” 

“Yes, I did,” I replied. I could feel Michael’s eyes boring into my side. I was heating up with what I thought was anger. “I did.” 

“Wow, listen to the heart pounding on that one,” the man announced. 

Nuna took one of her books and thumped him on the back of the head. “What are you, a newborn? Grow up, Michael.” 

He was almost acting drunk from the way he stood up, pushing his hair behind his shoulders. Taking a handkerchief from his sleeve, he pressed it against his forehead as he walked in our direction. Alfred stepped between. 

“I’ll walk you out,” he said looping his arm through mine as we hastily made it to the front door. My heart was beating hard, that wasn’t a lie. I wanted to shove a hex bag straight up that man’s ass. “Please take a breathe, Arthur, you’re making it very difficult to concentrate.” 

Right, right. More or less obnoxiously, I inhaled sharply. “Gods, can I murder that man for you? I’ve been asked to murder people before, but this - this creature, I could… I could - ” My hands were in fists; I hoped he could hear them clenching. 

Alfred smiled, but it felt alien at this moment. “I would love that, really, but you can’t. At least, you wouldn’t want to… I don’t think. If you like me around, that is, I don’t know. I’m… surprised you stuck around, Arthur. I’m so sorry you had to experience all that; he’s possessive and - ” 

“You’re sorry?” I repeated. I shook my head. “Stop. I’m not accepting any more stupid apologies from you, you git.” 

He glanced away. “Okay.” 

I picked up my bag from the ground and slung it over my shoulder. We stood in the dark until Nuna turned on the porch light and stepped outside, nearly silently making her way over to shake my hand once more. We exchanged a look, and I nodded. “I will,” I said. She blinked at me, then smiled. Stepping back, she turned to Alfred, draping her hand over his cheek and kissed him lightly on the forehead. 

“We’ll get out of your hair tonight, my child,” she told him. He gave a curt nod. 

Michael watched from the window, his mouth in a deep set scowl as he sipped from a new glass. A Pinion showed up at the end of Alfred’s property and he walked me to the car door. I half sat in the seat, pausing. Please come with me, I thought. 

“About what Michael was saying, I’m not judgi -” 

“Arthur,” Alfred cut me off. He rubbed at his arm. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Tucking my leg into the car, he shut the door. And I left him there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! Sorry this short one took a while, this semester is killing me. I had to rewrite a literature review three times within two weeks for one class, and I took more shifts at work. It's been pretty hectic.  
> So yeah, this was more of an angst, hurt/comfort chapter, and next chapter will mirror that but I promise more of the comfort you all are demanding. You're going to begin to see some major progressions of relationships from here on out.  
> Arthur never wanted to know more offensive spells than ever before. He's going to have to read up on some attacks.  
> Alfred just wants to sleep. Family reunions haunt him.


End file.
